The Son of Man
Has nowhere to lay his head
He’d said goodbye to home
And Nazareth bed
Bid farewell
To those quiet hidden years
Set out on the road
That held so many tears
Never again
A home to call his own
The carpenter’s shop
That peaceful comfort zone
Now great strides
Into the world are made
Speaking words
And truths that never fade
Causing consternation
In his wake
Who is this man?
Clearly not on the take
They put him in his place
Upon the tree
And buried him
Good riddance don’t you see
Now you have a place
To lay your head
A stony silent tomb
House of the dead
They mounted guards
Told lies when soldiers fled
The Lord of life is risen
As he said
Each night
I lay my head upon the pillow
Glad to lie and rest
And close my eyes
One day a final rest
Will come to meet me
And after that I trust
The great surprise
Brian Fahy
29 September 2021
Erris Poetry 