And After the Crucifixion

And after the crucifixion
They tell me that the man is risen
That fate or goodness would not let him rest

But after the resurrection is an act of spirit
And before the resurrection is an act of soul

I cannot spend much time
In the urgencies of men
Who seek to assure us that there is one life after this
I keep feeling that the life they are in
Is almost a shallow hell
Made as some sort of trap to put all others in

I am not a pleasure seeker
I am not a man looking for the devil
I assure you that I seek ardently a chaste and decent life
So why do I rest in the bottom of a cry from a man's mouth?

Do I not love women,
Who cry out in agony of childbirth?

So admittedly I would prefer a vowel from one woman straining to give birth
To all the consonants of men?

And yet I will beget no child,
As a matter of principal, I will stand,
Until battered down, just a man,
Speaking to all those other men and women
Who will beget children
And belong to the human race
Swimming in the gene pool
And to those who will not.

There must be something of a commonality between them.
The cry of the man on that lonely wooden tower
We all know how lonely it is
There is no denying
And the lonely cry of a woman giving birth and being a mother
Being something she cannot and will not possibly understand.