Thursday, 9 April 2015
The woodworm in the cross weren't Jewish
and Christianity hadn't yet come to town.
Nor did they belong to pagan cults
so when the spear slit in and blood dripped down,
the woodworm, feeling only sticky rain,
with no sense of bad or good,
just chewed deeper in the wood.
The woodworm weren't Buddhist,
Jainist or even Zoroastrianist
and if they were inhabited by Hindus
on their long journey passing through,
well, the woodworm never knew.
The woodworm now aren't Muslim
and still they follow no religion.
They live the lives bestowed on them.
Non-denominational and secular,
they ate a wooden Buddha,
they ate the holy cross.
Even now they're chomping down
in churches, synagogues and mosques.
First published at Your One Phone Call Poetry 4/7/2016