I have travelled light
so that the leaving should be easier.
What I bequeath is left according to your will
and this new testament. I leave a church
to be built on a broken rock. I leave
nothing written down. I heard my words
blown freely on the winds of Galilee
to seed the hearts of men. I leave no money,
debts or property, no house for shrine,
no artefact for relic. I leave just
the remnants of a meal. My cloak
is cast aside and gambled for. I leave
no tomb to raid, no corpse to disinter
no fingerprints, no blood, no DNA.
I could have gained the world,
but nothing now stands between us
but this one last legacy: because
it is written, because
it holds the only power with which
the trap of human death will be unsprung
and because until I give it up to you
it cannot be returned to anyone
father into your hands
I commit my spirit.
Seventh and last poem in the sequence words from the cross. The closing section was revised in February 2018.
© Godfrey Rust, firstname.lastname@example.org. See here for details of permissions for use.