On Caravaggio's The Taking of Christ

On Caravaggio’s The Taking of Christ

Master Caravaggio crowded six of us onto the canvas,

But your eyes may be drawn to just two,

Our faces torn out of the shadows, myself and the Lord.

He looks down, tranquil,

As I near his mouth with mine.

We are perfect stillness in the clamour and the clang.

The soldier’s metal arm cradles us tenderly

While the artist holds a lamp which illuminates nothing

But look there at my face, the greater grief is mine.

And the sacrifice so poorly rewarded.

Already I have placed the rough rope around my neck.