The Crucifixion

I watched and waited

As the whip tore across your open wounds,

Licking the destruction they created,

Over and over—until I prayed for your life to end soon.

My tears burn,

Tickling the skin around my throat,

As my stomach rejects the very blood your body soaked in,

Clenching my fist to strangle the whiteness at the edge of my sight.

As hate spills from the masses,

Provoking the beauty of your name,

Laughter pierces the nails through your wrists,

Slicing my hope at its knees.

My mouth inhales your end,

And for a moment, I feel the need to hold my breath.

My body trembles at the sight of your feet hanging,

And I try to stand,

But a force beyond me traps my steps.

You can’t die this way—

Motionless, skin covered in their spite and your piss,

Under the flood of my tears I dare not wipe away,

For if I clear my vision,

I’ll have to admit I just sat and watched. I just witnessed.

Another piece of your flesh slides slowly down your side,

And for a moment, I hear your cry echo,

Passing through the champagne bubbles of vile joy,

Wrapping my shoulders in the embrace of your purity,

As sweet and light as fresh wine,

Until your earthly body is destroyed,

And those who once called themselves human rejoice.

But I don’t move—

My head remains collapsed between my thighs,

As I stutter every pleading word I’ve ever known,

Hoping that if I rewire my mind,

And hide what I saw in broad daylight,

Maybe I can find a way to sleep through the night.

I guess this is what it takes to save a life.

I guess this is what happens when we confuse wrong for right.

So I’ll pray for forgiveness until my hands turn blue.

I hope one day I can face you and confess:

I should have stood up for you.

Maybe then, when I say I love you,

It won’t feel like an excuse.