To be crucified
again? To be made friends
with for his jeans and beard?
Gods are not put to death
any more. Their lot now
is with the ignored.
I think he still comes
stealthily as of old,
invisible as a mutation,
an echo of what the light
said, when nobody
attended; an impression
of eyes, quicker than
to be caught looking, but taken
on trust like flowers in the
dark country towards which we go.
by R. S. Thomas
from Experimenting with an Amen (1986)
Rambling At The Bridge Head 