Many Things to Many Men
There are those who say
He rose to the occasion
On sacred eagle wings
Or might they have been
Angels
For surely
They were golden
Tho avid disbelievers
Flocked
To that very special
Oh’ so sacred spot
Where he hushed them all
As children
For he became to them
So very many things
Not least a
Pilot and a beacon
To shipwrecked craft
An outstretched arm
For starving men
A fisherman and farmer
Oh’ yes
They watched him rise
Through fingers splayed
Through vows and veils
Through shallow graves
They watched him
From hallowed clouds
Of dust
Unleavened bread
A sacred toast of wine
He bled
Yet not one drop
Was shed or cupped
Oh’ yes he rose they said
On sacred eagle wings
Or might they have been
Angels
For surely
They were golden
Yet mid tears and sweat
A barren cleft
Not barely touched
Left naked neath
The meadow
Known as Calvary