Lent
I suffer death
his hard blue sting
his theft of breath
his hammering
Yet though worlds fade
before my eyes
I’m not thus made
the thing that dies
I bore the shame
I wore the tree
I was the sin
Remember me
I suffer death
his hard blue sting
his theft of breath
his hammering
Yet though worlds fade
before my eyes
I’m not thus made
the thing that dies
I bore the shame
I wore the tree
I was the sin
Remember me
Slow Literature 
Good work. Dimeter can be hard to do well, especially with so grave a subject matter — but it fits well. I like the occasional interspersion of trochees to break up the rhythm a bit and keep the mood serious and conducive to reflection. With so many dimeters, the tendency would be for the tone to degenerate into a sing-song regularity unsuitable for thoughtful meditation.
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You’re too kind. Thanks.
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