He is a big, powerful man, seated after the
crucifixion, perhaps after the resurrection, sitting by the grave. He
sits sideways, as if the extremity were over, finished, the agitation
done with, only the result of the experience remaining. There is some
blood on his powerful, naked, defeated body, that sits rather hulked.
But it is the face which is so terrifying. It is slightly turned over
the hulked, crucified shoulder, to look. And the look of this face, of
which the body has been killed, is beyond all expectation horrible. The
eyes look at one, yet have no seeing in them, they seem to see only
their own blood. For they are bloodshot till the whites are scarlet, the
iris is purpled. These red, bloody eyes with their stained pupils,
glancing awfully at all who enter the shrine, looking as if to see
through the blood of the late brutal death, are terrible. The naked,
strong body has known death, and sits in utter dejection, finished,
hulked, a weight of shame. And what remains of life is in the face,
whose expression is sinister and gruesome, like that of an unrelenting
criminal violated by torture.
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