Barabbas, Father’s Son, your story’s end
unknown your Genesis unsaid. You mark
at Jesus side the choice twixt life and stark
and nameless death. Are even you a friend?
You saw how Life Himself for you the Dark
Descending brav’d, the raving mob endur’d
the pillory the cross the spear assur’d
that you could freely fly from Pilate’s clark
and yet aren’t you by sacrifice allur’d
a bit? this quiet man who deathward goes
ne’er fending for himself nor pain nor woes
addressing. ‘Til at last your death is cur’d
and does a saintly name your story close
your name unwrit by holy waters’ flows?