Trees are crosses and this
cross a tree.
The man is diminished by
hanging,
Not by his suffering --
which is only a fee
In return for what is
beyond questioning --
But by the distance
between himself and the earth.
There are two ways to
respond to such love,
By kneeling and by not
kneeling. Let death,
Which has no meaning below
or above,
Being only the Sphinx with
no riddle to ask,
Stop its shallow breathing
just long enough
To confirm the man in his
eternal task.
Let him answer silence
with a barking cough.
Only then shall I climb
that tree as well
Without fear of heaven or
hope of hell.
Here is another poem about St. Jerome:
http://christopherguerin.blogspot.com/2010/05/st-jerome.html
