Judge Me Poem by Liam O'Brien

These words are images yet to see
Of a room inhabited by figures three,
Reminders of events known to be
Common, repeated through time.

A seated figure, power innate,
A fallen man on his knees, prostrate,
A standing man, values causing him to wait,
Related through meter and rhyme.

Now to begin, the tale unfold,
The tale often lived, yet so seldom told
With significance past that of gold
As the ringing church bells chime.

I.
The seated figure gave forth gravity,
A pull to go beyond that of the Earth,
A pull to go beyond that of his girth.

He sat as judge sits presiding at court,
The weight of judgement sat firm in his hands,
The weight of judgement that such time commands.

Dried streaks of blood stained the armrests above
Twin spreading pools cov'ring floorboards below,
Twin spreading pools that from each foot did flow.

Slowly the knelt man was pulled toward him
While the standing man would not deign to fall,
While the standing man did not move at all.

II.
Hear the kneeling man speak under his breath
Muttering words in an unbroken flow,
Muttering words he began long ago.

'I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.'

The only break comes as whisper to Two.
Two (known as stander) did little but grin,
Two (known as stander) judged not his own sin.

III.
The standing man stands nothing but upright
Not allowing One to pull him below,
Not allowing One to judgement bestow.

Eyes are locked in contest with seated one
Flickering words, are they challenge or plea?
Flickering words, are they questions? Decree?

Intensity of words seem to grow strong
With silent words becoming a command,
With silent words coming from he who'll stand.

Is he worthy to stand? Worthy to fall?
Eyes are now blazing with intensity,
Eyes are now blazing, the message: 'Judge me.'