Sweet, broken, dead Jesus,
do you still feel the pain?
Do your wounds still bleed?
Do the angels hover close by
to prop you up when you faint?
Sweet wounded Jesus,
the morning, the dawn,
the first rays of Sunday morning,
the stirring, the walking away –
touch me before you go.
Touch me.
Hey Syd. Do you know Ferlinghetti’s poem, “sometime during eternity”? You seem like the type who’d know it. Arguably, it takes the “dead” story of Jesus and gives it a different kind of life by animating it within the local dialect of the Beats. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42860/sometime-during-eternity-
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Yes, I have been a Ferlinghetti fan for a very long time. That’s a hard, strong poem, perhaps a little more bleak than I would want to go, but I feel it. I adored the Beats. Probably read too much of them, but Victorian literature bored me to tears.
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