The Sword

Lately I've been reading Sheldon Vanauken. In "A Severe Mercy" he references the story of a Hebrew woman named Veronica, who supposedly wiped Jesus' brow while he was carrying his cross to Golgotha. I'd never heard of that before. And I can't stop reading this sonnet he wrote...

The Sword

Yes, Mark was posted to the Tenth that year.

The day we got there priests contrived to bring

This 'god' to death, and mobs that made me cling

To Mark surged round us, all one mocking jeer.

No omen warned me when Mark led me near

The yelling street that I should be implored

By God to wear my girlhood like a sword

So edged with mercy men would freeze in fear.

Mark's armour made the crowd draw back a space.

Just there beneath his cross the god limped by.

I saw his eyes and rushed into the street

Through sudden stillness wiped his face.

"My child," he said and staggered on to die.

- My girlhood lay in fragments at my feet.