By Yasen Vedrin
(The Copper Bowl)
Are you weary, my brother, of being always banned?
Of tasting no sweetness, being last in the land?
Of being looked at askance, as if you bore the blame?
Like a scrawny old mule, wandering poisoned with shame…
Has this sovereign fate made you weary and sore –
To be hunted with hatred, like a plague at the door?
To see them avert their cold eyes, while they whisper behind,
That amidst all these days, you’re the trash of mankind?
Are you weary of being a target and aim?
Forbidden, denied, on a path filled with shame?
To be the sharp stone where everyone stumbles and falls,
While your last fading flame into loneliness calls?
Even Christ on the earth felt this weariness grow –
With a crown on His head from the thorns here below.
He was mocked and was scourged, he was cursed and condemned,
By a traitor’s kiss sealed, by His own people stemmed…
Are you weary, my brother? Just a moment remains…
And in this brief time, the Lord shares all your pains.
He attracts all our fates, bleeding on Golgotha’s ground…
And to love in this way – only Life can be found…
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