Martyr

Martyr

BeFunky_great_deeds_700

In my dreams he is God’s son, embraced in the leafless branches of an oak tree, motionless and dim.  His vessel hangs as if just born, ropes feeding of his sacred flesh. I stand beneath him lips parched in prayers of blessed history retold, kisses upon his cold feet, blood from his fresh wounds mingling with my saliva.

But I am too eccentric in my beliefs; the crown of thorns bleeds my forehead.Stripping myself of earthly possessions, I rip through my bare chest till color, poisonous and ill pours.

I slice until I’m clean. I repent until he commands.

 

 

 

 

 

Some may recognize this from Goya’s Great Deeds Against The Dead. It is The Disasters of War Plate 39. I took the liberty of taking the central figure for this piece. Original here: http://www.eeweems.com/goya/great_deeds.html 

 

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12 thoughts on “Martyr

  1. These microfictions don’t explain much, but you do one hell of a job of visualization in this small piece.

    • Haha funny you say that. I did an experiment, sending one to a friend of mine who has never before read microfiction and she was so very confused. Sometimes I am myself! But some extended version of each piece lives in me so I get to know a bit more.

      Thank you for your words Tom, they bring me joy.

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