Passion by Malachy Harris
Along the pavement lay a beaten man.
His head was hung. His eyes were wet with pain.
The rain stormed on. We kept our heads down.
The shuffled shoes, a splash, a smile, a frown,
As we moved swiftly through the pouring rain,
While on the pavement lay a beaten man.
If we had stopped to notice. Clear tears ran
All down his cheek. His chest was a red pain.
But we stormed on. We kept our heads down.
The street was painted red. He wore a crown
Of thorns. His coat was soaked, and, in the rain,
Along the pavement lay a beaten man.
We hurriedly walked past, watching him drown
In pools of blood. His face twisted in pain.
The rain stormed on. We kept our heads down.
Are we not from the same, final, plan?
Do They that judge us watch with Their disdain?
Along the pavement lay a beaten man.
The rain stormed on. We kept our heads down.
