And the Word was made flesh.
— John 1:14
1
Even as the nails
are driven in
so the blood
falls and mingles
with the earth
to seed
a resurrection.
2
What thorns are these
here mocked by blood
whose every sentient drop
finds Earth its biding place?
The Sun is no longer the Sun.
Light filters into dark.
Such is time’s encumbrance
the resurrection is delayed.
3
This crown of thorns
yields blood as portent
wherein the fallen
face their Judge
as in reflection
mirrored
is the unfallen.
4
Such blood as this
is saving presence
of the All in all
that it might pardon
every bodily betrayal
intent on proving
vanity a sanctuary.
5
What could such blood make known
but that life‘s transience
holds such immensity
as light’s dissolving presence
making these bright shadows
seem a world.
6
These tears flow openly
to seek a bounty
in such measure
as might fathom
the barren ever-passing.
The passage of redemption
beyond the grave
brings depths of sorrow
only the blood will fathom.
7
So the apparent is.
Much may be said of it.
Herein the blood must flow –
a call towards light
to reveal how all things
cast no shadow
at their source.
Brian Keeble (b. 1941), poet, publisher, essayist, and traditional metaphysician, is a founder of Temenos Academy, and the author of numerous books of poetry and on the arts and philosophy.
