Monday, March 21, 2016

Good Friday

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

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