A friend from Belgium, Father Harry Gielen, has been collecting poems on the Passion of Jesus for years. He sent a selection of them to me recently and I hope to offer one each Friday.
Pilate Remembers
I wonder why that scene comes back tonight,
That long-forgotten scene of years ago.
Perhaps this touch of spring, that full white moon,
For it was spring, and spring’s white moon hung low
Above my garden on the night He died.
I still remember how I felt disturbed
That I must send Him to a felon’s cross
On such a day when spring was in the air,
And in His life, for He was young to die.
How tall and strong He stood, how calm His eyes,
Fronting me straight and while I questioned Him;
His fearless heart spoke to me through His eyes.
Could I have won Him as my follower,
And a hundred more beside, my way had led
To Caesar’s palace and I’d wear today
The imperial purple. But He would not move
One little bit from His wild madcap dream
Of seeking truth. What wants a man with “truth”
When he is young and spring is at the door?
He would not listen, so He had to go.
One mad Jew less meant little to the state,
And pleasing Annas made my task the less.
And yet for me He spoiled that silver night,-
Remembering it was spring and he was young
William E. BROOKS, in: Chapter into Verse, Oxford University Press, 2000
The Victor's Place 
All I can say is WOW. I would not have thought to look at the Passion from the viewpoint of Pilate. This is so well done; feelings that Pilate felt were palpable and believable. Good Job on this one!
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Pilate remembers reminds me of a book I have by Fr Jim Martin. If you have read it you will remember too. If you have not, I will lend you my copy.
A beautiful poem Pilate Remembers. One can picture it in minds eye. Thanks
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Thank you for publishing this beautiful poem. It reminds me of a story I heard Fr. Bausch tell many years ago:
It was the last day and all were gathered in heaven having a wonderful celebration, when Peter asked, “Where is Jesus? No one knew, so Peter went in search of him and finally found him out on a balcony. Peter asked, “Lord, why are you out here all alone when the celebration is inside?” Jesus answered him, “I’m waiting for Judas.”
Both the poem and the story are vivid word pictures that I can “see” and “hear.”
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I also like William Brooks’ book title, “Chapter into Verse”
Gloria
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