Passion Diptych -- Sts Thomas and Matthew Shepard (Poem)

 

I.

Mysteries catch us by surprise.

You live fully, freely

Calling out the world by being

In it.

Looking back, it’s easy

To see what Heaven was like,

Who it was who called you

In each moment walking on the Earth

To make of it a little bit the garden

By planting flower, pulling weeds,

And standing at the gates of gospel,

Saying,

“Look! I am free.

And how about you?”

II.

Sailing off to distant lands,

To Laramie or Chennai,

Carrying his love in that firm,

Quiet, faithful way,

And his voice was the wind within your sails.

Rome and Rabat took their prices,

Tearing flesh as only empire can,

My dear beloveds, even so you held

Your course to where He promised harbor,

For your hearts, for His words in you, saying,

“Come! come alive

And be made new.”

III.

He never asked for this

For you.

Your body pierced and torn,

And always the cry of the crowd

Pretending your light wasn’t so bright as to tear the whole damn world open,

The whole thing exposing its bones to light

And maybe love.

And yet in this the midnight of your stories,

He knew, oh so well how each spear, nail, pistol felt,

And how the crowds would twist your words, demanding your blood over the truth, that there is no truth where there is no love and so they said in mockery,

“Unless I see him broken,

I won’t believe.”

IV.

And now you’ve walked across the long and windswept plains,

Winding, weary but warm and full of everlasting,

Up to Zion.

Somewhere, He gently brushes hands across each wound,

Caresses, and you feel your own hands holding his, wounds as one.

He says, touch so deep and tender,

“You’re not a ghost, nor am I.”

And you respond, breathing in his life,

“My Lord and my God.”