he stood in the middle of the synagogue



the shadows hiding

the faces of the mockers



accusations flying at him like spit

each falling to the ground

darkening the dirt



there he remained steadfast



as one, two, three stones flew

smashing his temple, cracking his skull

catapulting from around the room



as each person took his turn

handing their coats over



and they edged on, shouting



the suspense climaxed

til no more rocks could be found



and the dust cleared



there he stood, wavering

dropping to his torn knees

looking up into the sky

as the blood stung his eyes



his lips moved, uttering

his last sentence



and with submission

he committed his spirit

into the hands

of his God



among the piles of sticks and stones

layed rocks

and bones of the first martyr

07/03/2002

Posted on 07/03/2002
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