Will you not watch one hour with me
In this dread garden of Gethsemane?
Oh, Lord, you have forsaken me,
Abba, father, set me free.
I wander twisting paths of madness
Lost in a shadowed shadow world,
As though in a mirror dark I see
The crucifixion of my mind.
The serpent coils within my brain,
An ancient darkness writhing here,
As fangs plunge deep into my soul,
The venom of insanity.
Here are demons dwelling darkly;
I fear the coming of the Night.
Hell spawned voices of delusion
Nail me to this living cross.
I ask their name, they answer Legion
Devils from the pits of hell.
I burn, I burn; put out my fire,
Put out this night, this life, this now.
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani",
Words from sacred woundings rise.
I hang upon this cross abandoned,
Eternal void of endless pain.
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3 comments:
Nice.
Aspiring Christ eh?
Beautiful. Whose is the voice in this poem?
- Rachel
Little Dozen Press
The voice is my brother's. He is schizophrenic and his fixed delusion is that he is Christ reincarnated, forever doomed to heal himself of the wounds of the crucifixion. This was written after a particularly harrowing visit. I am his conservator.
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