Rise (A Poem).

I saw a blanch sanguinary face
as clawing circlet cut his brow,
I heard the words of approbation
to men below this knotted bough

I saw him carry slight and shame
a wound deep within his side,
with a final breath before exhale
I watched as this man died

I saw one draped in silken linen
buried deep in cadged vault,
awake to pristine dispensation
and by reprieve would find no fault

I saw a man on mounted rise
shown bright with veneration,
being proffered on celestial wing
by a cloud of transformation.