The Centurion

The Centurion

I had never seen a sky darken so suddenly.
None of us had. Bits of lightning, but no thunder.
In the daytime, no less. Darkness.
It was the sound of the nails that drove us there.

We circled a sight I cannot describe without shuddering
even now, years later. Amid that tumult and horror
I heard things that were, in my lifetime, unrecorded.
Behind the crosses at the time, I cannot tell which of the three spoke.

But I heard the words clearly.
Someone said, Remember me, when you come into your kingdom.
I felt shame at such blasphemy.
Until a voice in between, re-assured him, that he would.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --