They found him on the riverbank,
full of holes, full of dark spaces.
They found him on a Sunday morning,
rolling in the arms of Jesus,
a husk being absorbed back into earth,
a shell the soul discarded.
Angels hovered in the morning light.
They bathed his unquenchable wounds.
They ran their fingers through his hair.
They pressed the good light upon him–
the one who walked away from life,
who joined in the sleep of the once living.
Who shut his eyes and saw everything.
— Bruce McRae
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with well over a thousand poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are The So-Called Sonnets (Silenced Press), An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy (Cawing Crow Press) and Like As If (Pskis Porch), and Hearsay (The Poet’s Haven).
Editor’s Notes: The image is from the Spiritual Inspiration blog (spiritual-awakening.net). The poem is arguably a highly subverted sonnet.