I saw Jesus hanging from a cross.

Strange tree.

(10,000 other bodies were hanging along the Roman highway.)

I saw Jesus in a boxcar, a yellow star over his heart. I saw Jesus in a camp, down in a hole, digging. I saw Jesus in the Holocaust Museum, shoeless, weeping.

I saw Jesus in court, in the dock, the public defender asleep. I saw Jesus in prison, clad in orange, shackles on his ankles. I saw Jesus on death row, praying, eating his last meal.

I saw Jesus in Salem, lashed to a stake, on fire. I saw Jesus in a women’s shelter, face battered. I saw Jesus in New York City, marching with suffragists.

I saw Jesus in Wyoming, body charred, tethered to a fence. I saw Jesus open a closet door, and another, and another. I saw Jesus dancing in a gay pride parade, smiling, waving, blowing kisses.

I saw Jesus in Mexico, following a coyote across the river. I saw Jesus picking strawberries, stooping, stooping, stooping in a cloud of pesticide. I saw Jesus in a union hall, painting a sign.

I saw Jesus sitting on a railroad track, facing a munitions train. I saw Jesus on Wall Street, toting a sledge hammer. I saw Jesus on the White House lawn, handcuffed, a flag burning at his feet.

I saw Jesus in the belly of a ship, crossing the Atlantic. I saw Jesus in the back of a bus. I saw Jesus in Selma, crossing a bridge, fire in his eyes.

I saw Jesus in a garden, under a stark tree, arms raised to heaven.

I saw Jesus in church, a noose around his neck.

I saw Jesus hanging from a tree.

(10,000 other bodies were hanging in the dark woods.)

Strange fruit.

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Check out Paula’s floral montage on the home page.