Zacchaeus

Squeezing blood from stone was my employment,
Collecting Rome’s taxes from grudging hands,
Grinding men’s faces for my enjoyment,
As their women cried at my demands.
Things were noisy that day, business was slow,
Crowds were clogging streets, I went up a tree
To get a better look, he would soon go
Past me, whoever he was I would see.
He came, looked at me, wanted to stay
At my home, my own brothers would not touch
My shadow, he wished to spend his day,
With me the leech. I could not bear this much.
After this gift, I could not count a cost,
The Son of Man had come to save the lost.

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