Jerking and twitching as if on a bed of nails
Outpouring of blood from body frail
His lips tremble as he sips the wine
Now is death waiting, the time draws nigh
Son of man, lay bleeding on wood
Outcome of man’s refusal of what is good
Now with arms outstretched, embrace them he would
Below, the crowds, they mock and spit
Injuries upon injuries, cause the flesh to split
Barreling down upon him, is the anger of God
Laughing are the onlookers, blasting out insults, they snicker and nod
Even the Romans who tortured him with the whip and the rod
Covered in blood, his eyes begin to close
On wood so splintered, an everlasting pose
Leaving this world, he came not to condemn
Lived his life, in the midst of children, women and men
Even now with his heart, weak and breaking
God’s own Son, in the darkness, dying
Ending with himself rising, along with the morning sun, his light outshining
By Jason A. Jones May 3, 2011 at 12:42 PM
No comments:
Post a Comment