Remember light splayed against the night;
Etchings, a hundred guilder strong;
Men all gathered round death’s blight,
bright in deaths’ dying song.
Remember too, a side with piercéd wound
and arms outstretched in loves’ embrace.
Never forget the sponge held ‘loft to swooned;
Dagger-long swiftly slicing flesh in grace;
The sounding song upon the cobbled stone;
Victory had by him who wasn’t trundled home.
Rabbi is the son of man off his throne,
instead of grasping onto airy home.
Judge he silent stone, sand and mustard seed.
Now is heard joyous cries from all the freed.
Inspired by Rembrandt’s Hundred Guilder Etching
© rl busséll 2018