Crucified

She said she had spoken with someone
Who had spoken to me
And I had said something to that someone
I never said,
Someone translated what I did say
Into something she wanted to hear,
And took back this perversion
To this woman, who blamed me
For something I never said,
But like that someone
Needed for me to have said it
So she can crack the whip across my back
And wash her hands
Before fitting my head
A crown of thorns
Before sending me up the hill
Bearing the weight of a cross
I never created,
Forcing me to decide
Which of the three I should be
The good thief, repenting
The bad thief, who won’t,
Or the one in the middle,
Bearing truth, righteousness
And justice
In silence.