Fine Print

The calloused, rough-hewn workers heaved
And threw another rough-hewn cross
Upon the growing pile of wood
Flecked with human dross

The timbers all had served their turn
And splintered over time
As one by one they’d pinioned those
Paying for their crime

And when they could no longer hold
A nail to pin the gruesome load
That pillar of the damned, the spurned
Was piled up with the rest and burned

They tossed the last one on the pile
Paused… shuddered at the Reaper’s Tally
Then fired the wooden bones just like
Those bones in Hinnom’s Valley

A worker standing near for warmth
Eyes gazing at the glowing pyre
Caught something strange upon the wood
In the growing flickering fire

Moving close, he grabbed the end
Of one old, rugged stake
Pulled it out, saw the words
And then began to shake…

          …Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews

“Pilate made a sign and put it on the cross.                                                                       It read: Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”

— John 19:19


REFLECTIONS

This is a fictitious piece, attempting to imagine the reaction of one who might have been a believer, or at least a curious one, who came across the sign Pilate had nailed to the cross of Jesus. Especially in view of what so many were saying about Him and the resurrection.


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