The Man with Joints of Stone

The man with joints of stone
Had shame on his mind,
And ache in his skull.
The poor vagabond fell
Ungracefully to his knees
In the local church
(He never went to one a second time),
The clergymen and church-goers looking
On with anxiety and suspicion.
He wept as the tortured, wooden
Christ statue looked pleadingly
Down upon him. The weight
Of the Son-of-God's stare
Added more to the man's
Already stone-heavy heft.
He rose to his feet, having
Relieved himself of
His shame, forcing it upon the
Others in the small church.
His joints ground, the sound of
Earthquakes and crumbling cities.
As his face dried, tears began to
Stream down the faces of
Every man, woman, and
Child in the church.

As many times as the stone-jointed
Man had done this very act,
He could never grow to feel
As if what he was doing
Could ever be right.
Yes, like a bottle, a jug,
He filled himself with
Shame, regret, sadness, anger,
Hatred.
He entered the local faith-house,
And he poured his elixir
Over every occupant of the building.
It was his duty, his
Solemn, single task.
Flesh was stretched over his
Stone skeleton for this purpose.
Eyes were placed in his stone skull
For this purpose. Every organ
In his body was created
For this purpose.
He rebels in the faintest of ways,
But, he may never stop.
O, the stone being is the
Bringer of Doubt, The Blade of Shame,
The Monument to Hate.

Now, he was forged to keep
The human spirit on its knees.
So what sick irony is this,
That the cause of this all,
The most vile invention,
Feels true shame
For what he has done?
Should you ever see this man,
(And you will know; those
Tired eyes can only belong to him)
Show him pity, for he is
Made not only of stone;
He is woven of grief.