560 - The High Priest's Servant

The High Priest's Servant

By Tom Riley

I heard his words and fell back with the rest
as if his breath had conjured a great wind
against the beating heart within my chest.

I got up slowly. I no longer grinned
the way I had before I heard him speak
as if his breath had conjured a great wind.

Then his own servant struck. I gave a shriek
of pain and of relief, for I could feel
the way I had before I heard him speak.

Why did he then extend his hand to heal
the wound I had accepted as a gift
of pain and of relief? For I could feel

The sheltering pain no more, nor could I lift
my most effective shield against that man:
the wound I had accepted as a gift.

Cursing misplaced compassion that could ban
my most effective shield against that man,
I heard his words and fell back with the rest
against the beating heart within my chest.

Tom Riley teaches English literature at Canisius College, Buffalo, New York. He is a doctoral candidate at Notre Dame University and a lay member of St. Mary's parish in Lockport, New York. He has published poetry in Light Year, The Lyric, and Plains Poetry Journal.