Posted in Poetry
Behold The Man
Reserved for a king, mighty and just Capable of leading his people out of oppression And gaining the envy of rulers from other nations Can this be him? This image of him Before his execution He stands on the fourth plinth, reserved for a much larger figure. A king mounted on a mighty horse and clad in noble armour, Conquering sword outstretched with vigour. Instead, this king stands barefoot His arms bound behind his back His expression unconcerned and posture relaxed. He wears a prisoner’s rags and a crown of golden barbed wire. The people passed him by. Unconcerned with the image of the king who divided time Cast in white resin I wondered, what did he feel on that foul day? When he was marched before his own nation. When they called for his blood. When that sick crown was placed on his head. And when his judge announced to the crowd. Behold the man.
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