hands raised, prayer, salvation —
please, we beg you, please,
you shine so bright
and so are the best of us,
the best of them,
savior, champion, beloved —
the weight of such a thing,
heavy on your back,
for who could bear such a load
to carry earth, hell, and heaven still
to our breaking point.
we beg of you, show no flaws,
be not human;
we are uncomfortable seeing
a human toil so;
reveal your many eyes and teeth
and hold us as a monster would.
how could we not expect you to change,
son of the father who’s forsaken you,
when we could hardly do the same
while made in your image?
angels are bright still, they say,
though you, the brightest, fell.