I want a savior that really died,
not the half-assed man who
got the gift of a second chance.
I want a savior that
knows, really knows,
about the
permanence of death.
I want a savior that
was born and died.
Died.
Died.
I want a savior that
knows long term suffering,
not the 12 hours
nailed to a piece of wood.
I want a savior
that has slowly felt a body
fall and fall apart
over and over,
a body that has lost everything
down to speech itself.
I want a savior that
is still buried in the tomb
covered in cloth
aging oils
rotting.
Because then -
that savior,
my savior,
would really know
what it meant to be alive.
