like most men whose parents outlive them, i was a little boy when i was condemned
despite popular belief, i was cross, and received wood to match my emotion
i fell on dirty dirt, but mum was there and i found the strength of simon
my sweat and filth were wiped by compassion
thanks V
i fell a second time, but by then i was beyond their ridicule, i found a new strength
hidden all my earthly life
met the daughters my knees hit earth for the third time
blood and clay, together again
stripped, nailed
dead
deposition, or lamentation, whichever you prefer
both a step to my tomb
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