You might figure an Iraqi communist raised in an Islamic tradition had one of the more eloquent and poetic messages about Christ for the world. CJ
https://www.bu.edu/agni/poetry/print/1975/5-sayyab-messiah.html The Messiah After the Crucifixion by Badr Shakir al-Sayyab translated from the Arabic by B. M. Bennani After I was brought down, I heard the winds Whip the palm trees with wild laments; Footsteps receded into infinity. Wounds And the cross I was nailed to all afternoon Didn't kill me. I listened. A cry of grief Crossed the plain between me and the city Like a hawser pulling a ship Destined to sink. The cry Was a thread of light between morning And night in sad winter sky. Despite all this, the city fell asleep. When the orange and mulberry trees bloom When my village Jaykour reaches the limits of fantasy When grass grows green and sings with fragrance And the sun suckles it with brilliance When even darkness grows green Warmth touches my heart and my blood flows into earth My heart becomes sun, when sun throbs with light My heart become earth, throbbing with wheat, blossom and sweet water My heart is water, an ear of corn Its death is resurrection. It lives in him who eats The dough, round as a little breast, life's breast. I died by fire. When I burned, the darkness of my clay disappeared. Only God remained. I was the beginning, and in the beginning was poverty I died so bread would be eaten in my name So I would be sown in season. Many are the lives I'll live. In every soil I'll become a future, a seed, a generation of men A drop of blood, or more, in every man's heart. Then I returned. When Judas saw me he turned pale I was his secret! He was a shadow of mine, grown dark The frozen image of an idea >From which life was plucked He feared I might reveal death in his eyes (his eyes were a rock behind which he hid his death) He feared my warmth. It was a threat to him so he betrayed it. "Is this you? Or is it my shadow grown white emitting light? Men die only once! That's what our fathers said That's what they taught us. Or was it a lie?!" That's what he said when he saw me. His whole face spoke. I hear footsteps, approaching and falling The tomb rumbles with their fall Have they come again? Who else could it be? Their falling footsteps follow me I lay rocks on my chest Didn't they crucify me yesterday? Yet here I am! Who could know that I . . . ? Who? And as for Judas and his friends, no one will believe them. Their footsteps follow me and fall. Here I am now, naked in my dank tomb Yesterday I curled up like a thought, a bud Beneath my shroud of snow. My blood bloomed from moisture I was then a thin shadow between night and day. When I burst my soul into treasures and peeled it like fruit When I turned my pockets into swaddling clothes and my sleeves into a cover When I kept the bones of little children warm within my flesh And stripped my wounds to dress the wound of another The wall between me and God disappeared. The soldiers surprised even my wounds and my heartbeats They surprised all that wasn't dead even if it was a tomb They took me by surprise the way a flock of starving birds pluck the fruit of a palm tree in a deserted village. The rifles are pointed and have eyes with which they devour my road Their fire dreams of my crucifixion Their eyes are made of fire and iron The eyes of my people are light in the skies they shine with memory and love. Their rifles relieve me of my burden; my cross grows moist. How small Such death is! My death. And yet how great! After I was nailed to the cross, I cast my eyes toward the city I could hardly recognize the plain, the wall, the cemetery Something, as far as my eyes could see, sprung forth Like a forest in bloom Everywhere there was a cross and a mourning mother Blessed be the Lord! Such are the pains of a city in labor. _______________________________________________ Marxism-Thaxis mailing list Marxism-Thaxis@lists.econ.utah.edu To change your options or unsubscribe go to: http://lists.econ.utah.edu/mailman/listinfo/marxism-thaxis