The best of men was he

The best of men was he,
but he wasn’t free
from indignity.

He could control
the wind, the sea
and the fish that dwelt in it.

He could give life
back to the dead
and wake men from eternal sleep.

Still they nailed him to a tree
as if not comprehending,
who they really dealt with.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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