Character Sketch

I have no home. I was child of the streets and now am a man of the world. Abandoned when I was eight years old, I grew into a bitter, tough, rebellious youth. The gods on their Olympus had long since forsaken me and I relied on my wits for survival. My heart and eyes were blind to kindness, it was all a manipulation. I entered the Roman Military for a place to belong.

Through my diligence and hard work I achieved the position of centurion at a remote outpost in Judea 71 miles from Jerusalem. All my life I believed I had seen it all and nothing could faze me; I was wrong. I was hearing strange rumors about some Jew healing, raising the dead, and walking on water. I thought it must be a crazy magician, scaring the townsfolk, but nothing to capture the attention of a servant of Rome.

At twenty-four I went about my business carrying out orders for Marcellus, my Tribune. I began to hear more and more about Jesus, the Jew, as stories echoed across the desert through country and town.

My curiosity can never be satisfied and it had been growing in me, consuming my thoughts. My curiosity mounted further when we pulled out of the fort heading over to Jerusalem to oversee their Passover celebration. As we neared the ancient and great city, the tales came to life.

The road into the city was lined with men, women, and children, thick as flies on an over-ripe peach. The air was filled with a deafening noise. Children were weaving in an out legs for closer positions, men were throwing their cloaks on the street, and women were waving palm leaves as a banner. I stared down the long narrow road to catch a glimpse of the person who was arresting so much attention and praise.

A man appeared. He was a top a donkey, not regal in any Roman terms. His feet were adorned with worn sandals used to long walks. His tunic was clean, but of the homespun variety, simple and hung forlornly around his shoulders. As my eyes leveled to his face my heart pulled strangely from shock. His face held a seriousness that showed he knew a great many things, things no ordinary human would know. The face was kind an sympathetic. Then our eyes met. I had never seen such sad eyes. Those eyes pierced through my whole body so physically that I felt sick and numb at the same instant. Those eyes knew me, all of me.

As he passed I stared at the back of his head bobbing through the crowd. As I made my way back to camp I kept repeating to my self, "Artemeus, forget that man Jesus, he has nothing to do with you!" But he continued to invade my thoughts.

I was wrong. I had everything to do with him. The very next week I heard the rumors of his arrest and number of midnight trials. I was shocked. Then Pilate commanded Tribune Marcellus and his command to facilitate the execution of Jesus and two others.

We beat and tortured him. We mocked him and spat in his face. This man was a lunatic believing he was the king of the Jews, or anyone. Never once did he raise a word or a hand in retaliation or plea. His eyes still held that loving sadness, the eye that was still open. I began to feel ashamed. I felt ashamed when I whipped the cat-of-nine at his back, ripping it open. I felt ashamed when I drove the nails through his wrists. I felt ashamed when I cast lots for his clothes and won his robe. Him above me, regally silent facing the mocking mob.

The midday sun darkened and the sky grew to a shady colour of yellow-brown. The air was filled with a great white noise that physically weakened my body. I glanced up at Jesus and saw him murmur something in Hebrew. I caught the "It is finished" and his head slumped to his chest. Hell broke loose. The darkness close in with supernatural speed, the earth trembled violently beneath my feet, horrific screams filled my ears. I stood below the cross of Jesus and stared at his unmoving face. I fell to my knees and prostrated myself before him. I covered my face with my bloodied hands and shouted, "Surely this is the Son of God!"

Untitled

Who gave the waters clear, their azure blue?
Who put the bright stars in the evening sky?
Who sprinkled the grass with the morning dew?
And who set up the rainbow in the high?

Who had the power over nature's birth?
Who brought the butterfly from the cocoon?
Who buried gold in the heart of the earth?
Who governs the tide by the distant moon?

Who put the wonder within in my own breast?
Who set off the joy bells within my soul?
Who gave a reason to even exist?
Made earth a mission and heaven a goal?

Yes! There's a reason, if only we prod!
There's only one answer! Only one God!

Gimo

Rust red sauna hugging the shore
Steam emanating as the door swings aside
Bodies dart across the slick dock with a cautious step
Icy water envelops them as screams echo
Across the glossy waters

The fiery red glow of the midnight sun
Recedes below the horizon
The reflection of pink and purple
Are mirrored by this body of water

As the colours vanish a lone row boat
Glides noiselessly through the lake
Twilight settles as the night
Slides gracefully into the next day

Looming creatures brush the
Lake's surface with leafy limbs
A yellow glow spills into the
Shimmering pool from the sauna behind me
Soon the flood of light ceases and I find myself alone

Dark waves slap softly at the dock
Swaying it in a cradling lull
The lake, active in the light of day,
Now slumbering in night's silence

I gaze at the velvet sky with specks of stars
Like the watching eyes of angels
I turn walk back as the Man in the Moon
Whispers his "gud natt" to sleeping
Gimo