Ragged
breathing, body bleeding, nailed in place and left to die,
Wise
men mocking, soldiers hawking lots for clothes, a last good buy.
Gawkers
spouting, sinners shouting: if you are king then come and save!
Mother
grieving, thief believing—paradise beyond the grave.
Last
breath, last words, a final shout, the sun forsakes and turns to dark.
A
spear is drawn, cold flesh is torn; a deciding pierce leaves its mark.
Lifeless
shell, now done with hell, flows with water and with blood,
The
shocked earth shakes, tomb stones break. Could this have been the Lamb of God?
Women
weep, while pious reap the outcome of their final plan.
The
curtain’s torn, and disciples mourn the death of guiltless Son of Man.
The body’s given to faith once hidden, emboldened now by heinous crime
Of
hate filled men, blind to sin, still acting in the play divine.
Sabbath
day, knees bend to pray to one whose son they crucified.
Hands
wiped clean, no blood is seen, whitewashed fingers purified
By
holy laws, yet Satan claws and putrefies their inner thoughts,
And
they just laugh, “That King was daft.” Their breath smells sweet while their
souls rot.
Three
days pass, the accusers relax, the worst is over, they’ve won the game,
But
strange news comes, from fear-filled ones, who learned in terror: the lion’s
not tame.
A
sudden jolt, celestial bolt, strikes down the guards who fall as dead,
The
stone is rolled, and angels gold, shout out, “Behold, it’s as he said!”
“He
is not here, no need to fear, the light has risen and shines again,
Now
boldly go to the One and know: he’s saved the world from all its sin!
Bow
down, the crown, paid by his blood has eternal home in noble place,
On
Jesus’s head, no longer dead, the ruler on the throne of grace.”
Copyright 2016 Sara Nelson O’Brien
No comments:
Post a Comment