The Crown Of Thorns Poem by John F. McCullagh

The procurator came back home
As dusk began to fall
His man slave helped him to disrobe
He took his meal alone.

He thought about the days events,
of Proculla’s premonition
about the Jewish rabbi
Whose death pleased the Sanhedrin.

He’d washed his hands
But were they clean?
He struggled to decide.
He thought about this Jesus
Whom he’d just had crucified.

He’d found no real fault in the man
- just a holy fool.
Whom Caiaphas had wanted dead
and used him as the tool.

He’d had him scourged, as if just that
Would satisfy the crowd.
His men mocked Jesus with royal robes-
Woven a crown of thorns.

Next he gave the crowd a choice
To set this Rabbi free
But they preferred Barrabus
Nailing Jesus to a tree.


His chief Centurion arrived
From the place of execution
The rebel and two thieves had died
by Roman Crucifixion.


“I’ve brought you back the Crown of thorns
as a memento of the day “
but Pilate, looking horrified,
Ordered him away.




Notes

Procurator: official title of Pontius Pilate, Roman Governor for the Province of Judea

Proculla: Wife of Pontius Pilate. In the gospel of Matthew she had a dream concerning Jesus and asked he husband to spare his life

Caiaphas Chief Priest

Sanhedrin: a religious group in first century Judea.