I carried the cross of Jesus,
stood inside the Nazi camps.
i fled with many at Hiroshima,
died again and again in the jungles
of napalm Vietnam...
i buried the scattered bones
of Native Americans,
slain by the Bible's swords.
i rotted in a Chinese prison,
where they tortured me with cattle prods.
i marched the famines of Africa,
weeping over the bodies of children.
marching the sands of Iraq,
the mountains of Afghanistan...
but there is more!
the broken down projects,
the trailer park cementaries.
the unemployed lines,
the soup lines,
the picket lines.
i was shot crossing the border,
no one ever knew my name.
i died in your underpaid fields,
buried nameless in your mines...
i lost my soul a thousand times,
on your heroin flesh bartered corners....
i carried the cross of Jesus...
and laid it down on your Senate floor!
Your suffering following the cross of Jesus...great poem, Eric..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was like reading a horrors guide of the 20th century and finding no end of pain, its funny how Christ a model of the noble man is always exploited by those who would crucify him today. The salt of the earth continue to be spat upon, Love the path you went down, killer ending