I am a dog of Caanan. Protector of Israels settlements,
and scavenger of the deserts. Cowed in movement and
strangled with inhuman voice, I feed upon the waste
of the crowds that gather about your lingering soul
Traipsing around the anguish of the Golgotha crucified, I
smell their departing vapours. Yet, each step around
your fading ruin ignites a crucifixion within me.
Impaling me to your cross.
I hang upon your sorrow like a broken scarecrow, and
linger at your feet, hoping to be remembered in the
land to come. But, all I see is a simple man, pained to
the end of his tether. Shedding tears that fall from pain
filled eyes, as desperate for earthly release, as he is for
heavenly deliverance. Tears that nourish the dirt where
they fall and bless the heads of those who stand close
Loping between the legs of your faithful, I nip the ankles of
your accusers, a rightful dispenser of their pennance. Final
miracles are demanded but no longer heard, the weak of faith
tumble away like brittle leaves, blown by the frailest of winds.
Eliciting akward glances that feed my empathy, and soul
wrenching moments drained by your despair. No longer
cowed by man and his craven destructions, I sit at the
foot of your cross, resolutely guarding your ascendency.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem