The Inquiry

What fault called Barabbas from his procured vault
While flaying this other with legal assault?
What sin hidd’n within could this rabble have spied
For which this Nazarene so grotesquely died?
Why came no word to his accusers confound? –
Silent even when his blood a sea made the ground
Never such a quandary in Rome had I seen;
Never had I held a gaze of such stellar sheen.
What was it inside me that stirred at his strength? –
Such power! Though stifled…seemingly somber at length.
Never in my multiple lustrums’ observance
Had my seat been regarded as so void of substance,
So free of performance beyond the taut strings
That seemingly brought to fruition these things.
These proceedings I ordered, the procession I sent –
For what cause was it that this swited scapegoat went?
As he staggered through the Via Dolorosa, the way,
More than just that gnarled cross upon him did lay.
What was it he bore that garnered such spite,
When every limb of the law found him naught but aright?
Did ever one such as this arise, come to preach? –
Speaking of a lone, loving god in our reach?
Oh, the thousand questions, to god, had I asked!
With what purpose was this man from Galilee tasked?
Any hope, any answer, I now only see
As a thin silhouette – Yeshua nailed to a tree.