to save for three days before Easter

I wish just once,
as they make that poor guy
carry that cross of his
again

that cross of his, biting in

the shoulder aching,
blood-raw and splinter-bitten from
that cross

of his

that they all say is ours, that they say is for us - well,

I, for one
wish that for just one year, they could tell him: just

stop.

Let it drop.

off your shoulder, let it
fall

and for this one time: just
leave it. And walk.

Go on, get out of here.

Just this one time,

We're letting you off
with a warning.