remember the suffering
of Jesus.
Did he shake his head now and then?
That folks could be so mean?
So frightened?
That folks would out-and-out
lie?
And bend and twist to please Rome?
Did he ever wonder if it was
worth it?
Worth the effort?
I think he was afraid at times.
Afraid of failing.
Afraid of what might come.
Death can't win, is the story.
But death ain't no fool.
It has its ways.
For a time, it won.
And the good folks who love death
were proud of themselves.
And rolled a big ol' stone
over the hole in the ground.
Just in case.
Death can never be too sure
about such things.
No chances taken.
Death is like that.
Oh, but Donne said it well.
"Death, be not proud."
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