by Pavel Chichikov
Who are my friends, He asked, are they
The violent who my foemen slay?
Who kill the men who swing the flail
And slay the ones who drive the nail?
Are they the ones who think they pen
The cattle of the rage of men?
But I am hidden though I be
Hanged upon the leafless tree
But I am helpless against blows
And nothing of my power shows
Abandoned, I will not resist
The bullet and the club and fist
But those who die My death I heal
And those who seek My death I seal
Here is the wax and here I press
The image of the cross I bless
And here I burn it with the flame
Of Jesus' unresisting name
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may also visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.)
