Today You Will Be With Me in Paradise

To the thief (friend) on the cross

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Icon of the Good Thief, aka Saint Dismas, 15th century. We’ve taken some selfies together since then. I’ll show you when you get here.

Remember you? How could I not? 
Our cries echoed one another

as the nails drove in. Now our blood 
etches rivulets in the sand,

crosses paths. Soon, 
we will exchange our torn bodies

for new ones, and today’s agonizing 
shenanigans will all but be forgotten.

Your thievery? Just a down feather 
I blow off my palm. The soldiers:

nothing more than the dissipated 
sound waves of their whips.

Your lungs are deflating. 
Your feet are turning blue.

Shadows splotch your vision, 
and I, too, finally sense the seepage

of darkness. Let go, beloved. 
Let your last breaths lurch

and rattle out as you drift away 
to my voice. In a moment,

we will open our eyes 
under a canopy of branches,

leaves skimming our shoulders. 
We will stretch out our arms

the same way as now, this time 
bracing for a windfall of fruit.

—First appeared in The Christian Century, April 2025