Flesh and bone broke
Bended knees and convulsing fingers
As the nail was shifted and driven in
And you knew the one who spoke
Casually, to the other guard, as he lingered
Over you, in pain, in sin.
You knew him.
You saw him born,
Loved him from the womb and back,
When he looked at you in scorn
When he cried at brute attacks,
When he needed you the most
When his hands had nailed you stuck,
When his mother hugged him close,
When the fleeting pity struck
As he looked at you that day,
At the work his hands had done.
Just another Jewish slave,
Just another Roman one.
But you knew him–he, your son,
As he broke and turned away
As your token graces burned,
Another dead, another day,
As the greatest merit earned.
He, to you, a son you willed,
You, to him, a dog to kill.