Jesus was a Cuban Revolutionary
I was awoken from my misery by Che Guevara’s
iris
his face plastered, on fabric and non-precious metals, reminiscent of
another
Well, the Cesare Borgia degradation of the same
man
and he was just a man
Read Guerrilla Warfare and The New Testament
forgot which was which
The Son of God ran through Santa Clara
Kalashnikov in hand
Either way, it was relief
to find belief
a system, a framework
that illuminated the commonality
that binds
I felt those filaments, intrinsic threads
pull at me
all my life
Yet, I inhabited a society
oriented
to sever those cilia
make islands of each of us
and churches
were some of the most hateful places
I ever stepped foot in
The people there
seemed to have read
a different book
Maybe mine was the version
unabridged, a perversion
of a Dead-Sea Scroll
contained within
a simple premise, the foundation of which
all good and just acts arise
you are your neighbour; your neighbour is you
Look into an iris, any iris, and you will only ever find yourself
staring back
someone longing for dignity, shelter, a fair crack
someone with something to offer, to say
someone who longs to affect change
someone whose ventricles propel
blood through their veins
veins of blue
they are I
and I am you
Cameron Tricker is a writer from a south-eastern corner of England. His work is set to appear in DUMBO Press and has been shortlisted by the UK’s National Centre or Writing.
Pegasus 