The Telephone Pole Cross

by

J. M. Hallett

A blackbird drops its chalky white discontent
onto the shiny red Thunderbird parked below its
leafy perch, while its cohorts chatter in unison,
eighty-eight strong, trying and coax the loner to
the power lines and the telephone pole cross that
resembles that where Jesus of Nazareth spilled
his own discontent onto a blood-thirsty earth.

Although, then, no birds atop his cross did chatter.
Only the dry, raspy whisper of his barely audible
words, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not
what they do," could be heard, as his beloved Mary
Magdalene pleaded silently below his blood-dripping
feet for death to swiftly end his unjust misery.

"No father should put his son through this," she
screamed inside her throbbing head, as she asked
for forgiveness not.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Why I did it....
by: Muniraja Bhaktipada
from: Owego, NY, US

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