Crucifixion
Impaled Upon cruel thorns, The rose-moth writhes, While love-dreams, pierced by sharp words, Die painfully.
E. H. Johnson
SourceLicence:Public domain (US, unrenewed)
Impaled Upon cruel thorns, The rose-moth writhes, While love-dreams, pierced by sharp words, Die painfully.
Two small deaths sit side by side in these few lines. First we see a rose-moth, caught on thorns and twisting in pain. Then the poem turns, and we learn that something else is dying in the same way: a person's love-dreams, wounded by harsh words. The thorns and the sharp words are matched, as if cruelty took the same shape in both worlds.
The title is the key. "Crucifixion" is a heavy word to attach to something as delicate as a moth, and that gap is the point. The poem suggests that the pain of a shattered hope can feel enormous, even sacred in its suffering, however fragile the thing that is lost.
The speaker never says "I," but the tone is one of quiet sorrow and tender sympathy. Short, clipped lines slow the poem down and let the final word, "painfully," land with a sting. The mood is hushed, sad, and a little helpless: we watch something beautiful die and cannot save it.