3.29.2018

He did it for me


shoved down the narrow street in stark humiliation 
while every prod -of hand or whip- stings like fire and knives
on the back that no longer looks human, torn to ribbons and
forced to bear up the cross of shame, too heavy for words
since the weight is not of the wood alone- it's the world's too

stretched out on the planks, the ropes cutting in raw and deep
the strokes ring out, the screams ring out, the soldiers ring around
the foot of the crosses to divide the robes and watch as
people scream out and the body is racked with pain of two kinds

the sky begins to darken, the hours pass, the pain is surreal
and then it's time: the words are barely hear from the mouth
too disfigured to recognize  as the cry of agony pierces the air
the cry of the forsaken, the abandoned, the cursed
dies away as the sky falls black and the final words fall
as the spirit is yielded up and the work is finished

the last drops of crimson fall to the earth while the body droops
and the red stains seem to whisper from the parched dirt below
soaking in the love that grew where the blood fell
while the earth shakes and trembles and the dead are revived
and the last barrier is ripped away, torn from top to bottom

the mangled body is taken down, wrapped in linen strips
soaked with tears and spices, the very scent of hopelessness
carried away and laid in the rocky crevice of the earth
and sealed with a stone of finality's weight

but something changes in the morn, as the light overcomes and
with the dawn arrives the joy of the morning while the
mourning of night fades away into shock and hope
when, amid the tears, she hears the voice and looks up to see
the face of love looking back, the scars and marks erased 
by hope and the miracle of the beginning of the rest of time

tears flow out of the eyes that had seen death and given up
and the eyes that crushed death and rose up victorious
but they are tears of joy, and don't sting at all while 
bare feet pound on the dirt as they run to tell the miracle of life

when the scars and wounds are visible again, doubt dissolves
and faith is born to just one of many to come, but the scars
that were bore out of pure love, the only thing strong enough
to break the self inflicted bond of death and seperation
and while countless numbers will see the scars and believe
the biggest mystery is yet to be said, and that is the fact that

He did it for me

and consummatum est 

3.12.2018

no place for fear


via

it is reaching out
it wraps around our hearts
its dark, cold fingers
searching, grasping
r e a c h i n g
for the inside
for that precious space
where there's only room
for one thing
it wants to inhabit
the deepest parts
but that's not all
when it comes
it comes to kill
to twist and break
to snuff out the light
to  d e s t r o y 

but there is yet hope
because

we are also reaching,
reaching out
we reach for the light
we reach for the truth
we are searching, grasping,
r e a c h i n g 
for the truth
which overcomes
and overwhelmes
and drives out the lies
that want to take over
that precious space
sacred for one thing
but no, we will fight back
the death and the dark
are slipping away
in  d e f e a t 

because
there is no place for worldly fear
in a soul redeemed

++++

there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. // 1 John 4:18

 
blog Design by Beautifully Chaotic. Blog Content © 2017 by A Purpose and A Promise