…Jesus strolls in. He’s
bigger than anyone
would have thought
and darker, consider-
ably darker. He’s all
by himself, which is
understandable, his
disciples having fled
the rubber bullets,
teargas and flash
grenades. He stands
in front of the troops.
He’s on his knees;
he’s lying down. Then
knees are on him —
hundreds and hun-
dreds of knees
are on his neck.

*first line in poem Spring
by Linda Pastan