They Shot Him

Lay down your arms! I come in peace. Said the ambassador right before they shot him. Lay down your arms! And be released, he said, and then they shot him. His hands were high His heart was wide They saw, and yes – they shot him. Shall I play it back one more time? If I played it back ten times, would there be one time without ‘they shot him’? Would his plea ever work, would his face melt their fear … I doubt it, there’s not enough time before they shoot him.

At Last, A Realistic Love Poem

Tell me how wonderful I am. /Come on, tell me. /I know you can’t see the dishes that aren’t dirty, /but nevertheless I did them, /and I want to be praised for it – now. /Today I performed the least of my duties, /and it was such an unfamiliar experience /that it almost killed me. /So I think the least I deserve /is to be worshipped. /Tell me I am a goddess with sweet breath, /beautiful, smart and /selfless. /Come on now, /don’t distract me with your demands, /just tell me /how wonderful I am.

Barabbas

"Barabbas waited on the death row shelf. He had run in a gang. He would die by himself. His muscles were thin, his skin was pale, but then that comes with a stay in jail. He was tough underneath, and rough as well, but he jumped at a thump on the door of his cell." So begins one of the best Arch Books ever. It's about the trial of Jesus, and everything about it is right, from the terrific poetry to the dark art that exactly captures the mood for this event. I would not want this artist illustrating everything from Jesus' life, but for these characters and this event, it is just perfect.

See how the trial before Pilate is shown. The details of the laurel leaves, the Roman crest, and the way the Jewish priests are clumped together. Jesus is the least ugly person in the room, but He is by no means pretty or feminized. Pilate's moral weakness is visible in the shape of his face and body. On other pages, there are pictures of Pilate washing his hands before the crowd, and reading his wife's letter warning him to "have nothing to do with that innocent man."

Just look at those ravens flying overhead in this mob scene! How perfect. They know someone is going to die today. They are carrion birds, like the mob below them. I must say a word about the poetry in this book. It is so different from some of the Arch books, where entire incidents, lines, or interpretations are added, obviously just to achieve a rhyme. Very few words are wasted in Barabbas. The rythym is pounding (rather like the relentless pound of events). The choice of words is solid and meaty. There are rhymes within the lines, such as "he jumped at a thump" and some are onomatopoetic, such as, "They hissed and insisted that several times/Jesus was guilty of terrible crimes." The book ends with a pale, puffy Barabbas stepping out into the light, squinting uncomprehendingly at the back of the mob as Jesus is led away. High recommended.

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark

by Emily Dickinson

We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—erect—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—grope a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.

I loved this poem in college. I put a copy of it on my dorm room door, and memorized it.

Notice how, in the second to the last stanza, Dickinson gives us our first nice, obvious rhyme of the poem (tree/see). And it's put, for the first time in the poem, where we expect in the stanza (second and fourth lines). Although the whole poem has had either half-rhymes or rhymes in unexpected places, we have gotten used to it and have learned not to expect a lot of satisfaction from the rhymes. This second-last stanza gives us a bit of poetic satisfaction, which moves us along faster to the final stanza and incidentally sets us up to expect to find another satisfying rhyme there.

But - PSYCH! - Dickinson is not going to give it to us. She sets up the rhyme with "sight," but delivers only "straight." (What were we expecting? "Right," perhaps?) This feeling of being let down - of disappointment, of loss - is perfectly fitted with the theme of the poem, and also with the content of the last line - "almost straight."

I don't mean she did this all on purpose. It probably "just came" to her, in a whole piece perfectly consistent with itself.

Hot Off the Presses

Yes, I am jumping on the poetry bandwagon. Good poetry is one of my favorite things to read on others' blogs.

His Dusty Hands

There it stood, near the door,
and if you did not wash just so
you were “not holy” evermore.
A basin of chains.

In He walked, glanced that way,
did not stop to rinse away
the road-dust before He ate.
Ignoring the chains.

The host is shocked, breathing fast:
How could a Teacher walk right past
the holy basin of chains?

Dusty hands yet are clean:
He does not need to wash a thing,
He Himself is purity.

Demonstrating that He can
still please God, though shocking man,
without the ceremonial stand.
Loosing the people’s chains.