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The Killing

That was the day they killed the Son of

On a squat hill-top by Jerusalem.

Zion was bare, her children from their

Sucked by the dream of

Clean through the gates.

The very halt and

Had somehow got themselves up to the hill.

After the ceremonial preparation,

The scourging, nailing, nailing against the wood,

Erection of the main-trees with their burden,

While from the hill rose an orchestral wailing,

They were there at last, high up in the soft spring day.

We watched the writhings, heard the moanings,

The three heads turning on their separate

Like broken wheels left spinning.

Round his

Was loosely bound a crown of plaited

That hurt at random, stinging temple and

As the pain swung into its envious circle.

In front the wreath was gathered in a

That as he gazed looked like the last stump

Of a death-wounded deer's great antlers.

Who came to stare grew silent as they looked,

Indignant or sorry.

But the hardened

And the hard-hearted young, although at

From the first morning, cursed him with one curse,

Having prayed for a Rabbi or an armed

And found the Son of God.

What use to

Was a God or a Son of God?

Of what

For purposes such as theirs?

Beside the cross-foot,

Alone, four women stood and did not

All day.

The sun revolved, the shadows wheeled,

The evening fell.

His head lay on his breast,

But in his breast they watched his heart move

By itself alone, accomplishing its journey.

Their taunts grew louder, sharpened by the

That he was walking in the park of death,

Far from their rage.

Yet all grew stale at last,

Spite, curiosity, envy, hate itself.

They waited only for death and death was

And came so quietly they scarce could mark it.

They were angry then with death and death's deceit.

I was a stranger, could not read these

Or this outlandish deity.

Did a

Indeed in dying cross my life that

By chance, he on his road and I on mine?

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Edwin Muir

Edwin Muir (15 May 1887 – 3 January 1959) was a Scottish poet, novelist and translator. Born on a farm in Deerness, a parish of Orkney, Scotland…

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