Thursday, March 24, 2005
The Final Temptation
The Final Temptation
(after viewing “Portrait of the Suffering Christ”
from the collection of St.Francis of Assisi)
Why am I so defenseless
against this face?
What is this stirring like love
within,
reluctant recognition,
hidden centers opening?
Isn't this the visage of someone
I once knew
and still see occasionally
in the city,
riding the municipal bus
or at the market
checking vegetables?
Isn't this a person I
have spoken to now and again,
heard the story of his vanished wife,
his daughter away at college
who never writes?
This is a moment
I am not prepared for.
How often I have skirted
that great basin of sorrow
at the center of each day,
walked around it,
averting my eyes.
How many times I have looked away
not wanting to acknowledge,
see that face in full relief.
Now I have secret knowledge.
I am his blood flowing,
his weighted eyes looking out.
Who will protect me now?
copyright, Dorothy Walters
(after viewing “Portrait of the Suffering Christ”
from the collection of St.Francis of Assisi)
Why am I so defenseless
against this face?
What is this stirring like love
within,
reluctant recognition,
hidden centers opening?
Isn't this the visage of someone
I once knew
and still see occasionally
in the city,
riding the municipal bus
or at the market
checking vegetables?
Isn't this a person I
have spoken to now and again,
heard the story of his vanished wife,
his daughter away at college
who never writes?
This is a moment
I am not prepared for.
How often I have skirted
that great basin of sorrow
at the center of each day,
walked around it,
averting my eyes.
How many times I have looked away
not wanting to acknowledge,
see that face in full relief.
Now I have secret knowledge.
I am his blood flowing,
his weighted eyes looking out.
Who will protect me now?
copyright, Dorothy Walters
