WordsOut poems by Godfrey Rust  | sequence Words from the Cross ← 2 of 7 → | home            I  

thief

What would you steal from me, thief?
These Romans took my clothes. My friends 

ran off with their loyalty. My priests
have filled their pockets with my people.

I’ve nothing left but you, my captive audience.
It took a lot to nail you down to gain  

your full attention. All your life
you worshipped at the altar of desire  

only to find it is a god unsatisfied
by less than everything. In all your crimes 

you were the victim, and now you find
a god is dying next to you, and you 

so skewered that you cannot even
open out your hands to ask for mercy. Smile, 

thief: you are the archetype, the first
who took his cross up and then followed me. 

Nothing is what it seems. Your prayer
was answered long ago, and you will see  

breaking and entering done here
on a cosmic scale. Will I remember you? 

I tell you the truth, today
you will be with me in paradise.