Midrash Smidrash 3

So I have always wondered what sort of relationship Pilate had with his wife that he didn't take her advice about not killing Jesus, and this is what I came up with. This will be my last installment of Midrash for a bit...I am moving onto something else, though I am not sure what exactly. Maybe I will write really patriotic poetry and try and snag that US Poet Laureate position. 

Note: any anachronism is allowed by my "poetic license"... (I am sure there are quite a few, but I am not going for historical accuracy here exactly)

 

Pilate’s Wife

“Just then, as Pilate was sitting on the judgement

seat, his wife sent him this message: ‘Leave the

innocent man alone. I suffered through a terrible

nightmare about him last night” (Matthew 27:19-20).

 

That was the moment when it finally collapsed,

though a draft had slithered between our sheets

long before. The pressure of expectations were exhausting

I am sure, but welcome distraction, nonetheless, from a wife 

who sets her supple servants upon you, testing your will.

So I decided on the fainting spells, which kept you closer 

to my bedside than you had been for months, and for a while

feigned compassion began to settle into something

like love, until like a hand extended too long, you grew weary

of my troubles. Then came the visions--rushing to your room,

tearful over blood-filled clouds and vengeful servants. Yes, 

for a while you listened, though I knew it was only courtesy 

tacked onto a winding sheet of settling.

And so I settled like a pearl that has fallen

onto tilted tile, slowed by the friction of dust and cracks,

making its dark home at the far end of an empty hall. 

And though my necklace gapes like a beggar's mouth

without its weight, I know that if I were to bend at the knees

and seek with fumbling fingers, I could not rise again. 

  

So you see, that morning weeks later, when I screamed 

myself awake, pulling my hair and cackling at sick irony, 

I sent my girl to you with the truth and a vow upon my life. 

You, wise official, guessed my self-worth and shook your head

in reply. And I, following her, thought I saw your hand quiver,

your voice crack beneath the stern command of what you hoped 

might settle for justice. But I knew in my woman's heart, 

that for the first and final time, you did believe in what I saw.