The Stoning of Stephen

I have done it
again.
And
I am so sorry.
I am so ashamed
of myself.
I am not normally
a violent man,
at least
I don’t think so.
I have a temper.
Well doesn’t everyone?
But
I thought that
I could keep it
under control.
I am weak.
I am easily led
even though
I would never
admit it.

After the last time
I had sworn that
I wouldn’t let it happen
again.
I had felt so bad
at that awful Passover
when I had joined
with the crowd,
shouting,
‘Release Barabbas!
Release Barabbas!’
shouting
‘Crucify him!
Crucify him!’
I hadn’t really
meant it.
I was just caught up
in a crowd.
I didn’t want
to stand out
so I had shouted
with the rest.
But
he was innocent,
I’m sure of that.
I thought they would
let him go,
but they didn’t.
I saw what they did
to him.
I saw him on
that cross
and
I was ashamed.

I have tried to forget;
tried so hard
but it won’t go away.
And, ever since,
his followers keep talking
about him
as if
he was alive.
And now
it’s all happening again…
has happened again.
Why
am I so weak?
Why
couldn’t I have left
well alone?
Why
couldn’t I have been
man enough
to try to stop them?
Why
did I pick up
that stone?

His words
haunt me;
fill my mind
and my thoughts.
He was talking
to this Jesus;
talking to him
just like he was there
with him.
And he asked him
to forgive us.
Forgive!

How can I be
forgiven?
Why should this
Jesus
forgive me?
Even if he is alive
why would he want
to forgive me?
After what I’ve done
how could Jesus
forgive me?

Jesus,
if you are
really there;
really alive,
I am so sorry.


© Kathleen Wilks