Beyond Lord’s caricature, namesake
Sans the spectacle, of His crucifix
Betwixt the world, and heaven at stake
Who cares to see, dead man’s relics!
The pious lineman, of my lane
Who mortgaged soul, to the Holy Ghost
And spent Good Fridays, drenched in pain
Half-crucified, on the ‘Church’ signpost!
Who lit our lights, after a storm
Thru sleepless night, and endless prayer
Now dangles down, his solemn form
Beseeching care, with a faith laid bare!
Good Fridays! Won’t they bleed anymore!
Since my lineman, paid off, faith’s last toll!
With a pious life; death; gallons of gore
My Jesus Hangs There By The Pole!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra