Against The Grain by Soraya Safavid

And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”—Mark 15:35, MEV

Because he spent his whole life
pounding nails into wood,
he was ready
when the Romans turned
their tools of trade on him.

There was that time
when he was nine and his brother
slipped on sawdust—
Jude jolted Jesus
and the awl missed its mark—
iron spiked
the web stretched
between thumb and forefinger,
and Jesus cried for his father,
blacking out
in his arms, as Joseph extracted the iron,
sucked off sawdust
and blood, soldering shut the wound.

Later, when the soldiers fitted
his back to the beam,
planking his palms against the grain,
he was ready.
Ready for the hammer
driving the iron
through his planes, already shaved
lean by hunger and scarred
by years of pounding nails. Though
when the iron entered him at last,
he still cried out,
as he did when a child, for his Father.

Soraya Safavid writes from Kent Island in the Chesapeake Bay.