Holy Week Sonnet Number 6
Not many anymore have had to lift
A body. This sacred duty resides
In institutions staffed by those on shift.
When loved ones die, we call, and stand aside,
And others feel their weight. We have our own,
In head and heart, the pain is very hard.
We feel, but rarely in our limbs and bones;
And so our death may stay abstract and far
Away from facts like pounds and cubic feet.
I’d guess Christ weighed one hundred fifty pounds
At least when Joseph got him off that tree,
By setting ladder from the cross to ground,
Could he, up there, receive on shoulder’s heft
The burden of that body life had left?
You can listen to me read it here