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Art and Passion for a New Jerusalem

Can a victim find resurrection?
Jesus stands condemned upon the Strand
Bereft of protection.
Enough is enough, we cry
In interjection
Taking up His cross he stumbles, humbly
From Parliament Square
Watched by passerby
Truth, kindness contained in downcast eyes

 

In a Methodist chapel
He falls, quiet
Despair and hope intermingled
He shoulders his torment anew

Entering Westminster Cathedral
He looks toward his mother
Giving comfort, taking little
Onward still, taking leave of love

From Simon of Cyrene he finds relief
Fleeting assistance
Compelled yet willed
From a newcomer, unschooled in cruelty

Struggling towards leafy relief in Cavendish Square
Veronica wipes away his trauma
Like Madonna tending to a scraped knee
Leaving behind an impression of grace

He falls again in Trafalgar Square
Tugged by rope to a distant cross
While fists and mouths clamour for nails
Grimy degradation, glimpses of transcendence

Women offer prayers, veils, solace
Tears transforming into petals
Softly falling into place
In Cocteau’s mystical vision

The brutal concrete of the Barbican surrounds him
An unforgiving island
His holy blood runs in rivulets, pooling in the cracks
Annointing the pavement

Salvation Army hand-me-downs
Cannot swab away humiliation
Or still his naked shivers
A refugee exiled upon the earth

St Paul’s Cathedral he stands crucified
In the bodies of his followers
His sacrifice steeling their determination
His pain inspiriting their bodies

A Chapel Royal fitting for a king
But not a place for simpering praise
Or vainglorious parades
But criminals’ demise

Taken down from the cross in the round of St Stephen’s
He receives his shroud
His frail form looking ahead
To the suffering of his children

At last his final station, the tomb at Temple Church
A final descent twisting to ascent
To the depths of hell, then rising again
For His and our resurrection

Logo_Stations-of-the-cross hi res
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