Poetry

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The Agony of Christ

My eyes follow
his path.
His eyes upon
the worn tile.
His feet
directing him
to the seat
in front of
the statue
of the
"In Agony"
Christ.

Delicately,
yet with heaviness,
he lowers himself
to sit.
His head still bowed
but not in prayer;
for a moment
he prepares
then
"this is it!'

Facing those
winced eyes
in that
frozen moment
and into that
gaping mouth;
unresting on
that strained brow;
discomforted by
that craned neck
connected to
that gnarled torso.

A mirror image
of himself now
as he faces
the future
of his disease.

H. Stone (C) 2005

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