Listening to a performance of Marcel Dupre's Le chemin de la Croix (The Stations of the Cross, Op. 29)
I 1931, tramp, tramp. Dupre the Frenchman, Hitler
Jesus is sentenced bestirs himself from the floor of
to death Europe. We have found ourselves wanting and
will adjudge ourselves the more harshly for it.
II it is not yet beyond saving
Jesus is given it can still turn out well
His cross we do not yet have to go along, not with all of it
“We must bear the cross before it bears us”
III Christ plays in the ten thousand places
Jesus falls in this one, too? The earth is hard as iron
the first time meant to extract our blood
must this be so? Human pheromones, save me;
disguise what is coming, hide my inner
the hard stone of these steps, the hard
death approaches metronomically
all the chambers fill with the grandeur
IV across Europe for millenia the stifled
Jesus meets wails of mothers for their bloody
his mother dying sons – how proud I was of him
how little I knew, how cleanly
this rips my heart, beating, from my chest
V who is this Cyrenean? How came he to
Simon of Cyrene this place? Whither will he go, after Jesus’
carries the cross blood has stained his robe and the rough
edge of this wood smoothed across his
shoulder? God forbid that there not be
a special seat in heaven for he who
deigned to hug that bloody wood
VI “his image made of blood,
Veronica wipes his tears, our spit”
the face of Jesus the cloth can do little to staunch the flow
of gore, the victim’s heart thundering
wildly. Behind, the Cyrenean’s forearm
is as bloody as the cross it embraces
VII Middle Passage. A former king,
Jesus falls fastened to a post with a ring
the second time of iron, falters, disease-ridden
his throat aflame with thirst;
slime of his prison, while fast
and thickly staccatoes the lash.
“Lord save us from this second fall”
If they so treat green wood,
what will they do with the dead?”
VIII the women of the little Polish town
Jesus meets would try to see the children through the wire
the daughters and tried to believe, in their horror,
of Jerusalem that today was not just business as usual
God’s blessings on those who saw first-hand
the malignity, the coming wreck
IX third fall – save us from despair
Jesus falls in this cacaphony
the third time grind him the great maw of our machine
X all is taken but his blood
Jesus is stripped and they shall soon have that
of his garments take it – watch the cancer advance
take it – drink yourself to death
take it – as the bomb goes off
XI here is our hard bed of love
Jesus is nailed here is our place you coveted
to the cross here is the threshing floor of your unworldly love
see your creatures straining with the effort
see their effort and see their skill
oh so much more you have to do
to save such as these, as we
who macerate your flesh by the minute
XII If you do not know by now you never will
Jesus dies of the barrenness of this vessel -
on the cross a chimera, the promise of life,
of fullness: make the acquaintance
of this death you created for yourself, for me
meet the solitude, the emptiness
each breath is agony as the body distends
prop yourself up so you can breathe once
give up as you have been given up on
XIII I dreamt just moments ago
Jesus’ body my son was killed like any criminal
is removed from pulverized and hung
the cross like so much meat
But my boy did not die this way
these wounds did not so badly pain
him, his parting from me was never
such as this. He is now mine, I care
for him, I wash him with my tears
XIV Hide his wounds in this wound of the earth
Jesus is laid the latter lovingly made, the former all
in the tomb malice and spite
Clot this gore in gore’s receptacle
give him a place to catch his breath
to pick up speed for breaking through
be then his springboard, his signature
take the broken limbs, the ruptured ligature
the bloody brow, the pierced heart
quietly retire until his healing starts
Give over thy life, O death