Reflections on the Cross

He suffered and died on the cross
They say it was for me.
They say he is the way of salvation
The promise of eternal life.

I played the drum at the ball court;
I cried as Vikings torched my village;
With rifle in hand I slipped through the quiet forest;
And lit my cigarette, late one night,
Walking, again, through the city's dank streets;
This time I nursed a babe;
Next time I'll pilot a plane.

My suffering I do alone
Though sometimes
I delude myself
Believing there is someone
who watches, who knows,
Exactly the way I do.

Today the roses spoke to me,
Pinks and reds,
and yellows and white,
Like a lover, caressing my senses.

Paradoxes, placed
Upon the cross of sacrifice
These blooms are the anti-thesis,
They are a burst – a rocketblast of life
Egotistical and demanding,
even as they delight,
Destined to decay,
Destined to be no more,
Destined, just like me.

Another rose will grow,
this season and the next.
For years to come,
For centuries,
And that’s not enough for me.

I’ll spin around
On this merry-go-round
For many more a ride
I want to be dizzy
And laugh
And get sick.
I want to bleed
And taste of the wine
And know what it is
to burn in the flame
I long for the heat
Of my lover again.
No, I am not yet ready,
Not ready to be saved.