*POEM: These Tombstones Cry Out

Hobbling toward your cross, among shouts,

You said 'If they do not praise me, these stones will cry out."

I question, "But honestly, really, would they?"

That sounds like other exaggerations you say,

like "you can move mountains," or "do greater things than these."

Words that make me feel like you’re really just a tease.

As I hobble

to believe

in you,

It feels like you

turn your back

on me

as you say,

"Let's just see

if you can still

Follow me

after I

say this."

But...

I found out today tombstones could be seen from your strides.

And tombstones broke open when you died.

Perhaps when praising mouths fell shut as you fell limp,

these stones cried out, choirs of cracking flint.

And not only stones, but rattling bones took in gasps,

And cried out hosanna, our king comes at last.

...

Sometimes I wonder if the tease, is a briefly cracked door.

And your back turning is inviting me to more:

"Let's just see what you can be

If you follow me..."

To where not only the greatest exaggerations are true,

But true in ways that are phenomenally new.