Joseph of Arimathea by Jani Pearson

On the day everything changed
and the One who is Good
took on our despicable scales
even the seething pain
of rebellion,
you witnessed Him
on that sorrowful hill
smeared with bronze
as the snake.

And you were devoted
to the awful work
of loosing His body
from the cruel nails
of washing the stain
from His skin
and carrying His stricken
limbs to death's garden.

You, who could not
earn heaven but
through the needle's eye--
you, the rich, the law abiding
the self sufficient,
disregarded your costly
garments
and draped on your back
this bloody corpse,
this burdened and
forsaken rag,
as if it were
a shimmering robe.