I cling to my life,
though I desire open hands.
Take my will from my hands,
peel my fingers gently open
if you must, and lay it on the rock
to be broken. The rock
where One before me knelt
and broke himself upon it,
leaving blood, a silent witness
of the cosmic fight and the
death of One man’s rights.

One was led silently to his
slaughter, to the death of his
Deity. And must I be dragged
kicking and screaming to watch
a comfort crucified?

IMG_9156-2.jpgEthan Eshleman is excited that he gets to marry the girl he loves, he thrives on action, is partially introverted and he attempts to express feelings, longings, and experiences by writing poetry.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s