Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Everyone stood by (A Good Friday poem)

Everyone stood by
And watched as it happened
A man on a cross
Just a regular day
The criminals hung there
Like most weeks, together
Side by side
As justice held sway
Today felt no different
3 men nailed up there
Dignity denied
Guilt laid bare
The men on the side
Common men, locals, thieves
The man in the middle
What a following he leads
Well, led I suppose
After all it's all over
His road to Jerusalem
Ends with him doubled over
The pain and despair
Seemed etched on his face
Like part of him wished
One could stay in his place
Except that look seemed to say
"I have chosen this path
I will not look back
From this hardest of tasks."
This man in the middle
Cried out to his father
I don't blame the man
Nothing could be harder.
But scanning the crowd
No father was there
He looked down instead
On a woman he stared
His voice a hoarse whisper,
"Mother, this is now your son"
The most tender of love
He showed to this one
The afternoon rolled by
Then the central most man
Lifted eyes up to heaven, crying out
"Father, forgive them
Though they don't understand."
He looked on one man
Hanging there on that tree
His eyes spoke forgiveness
That could have been me.
A tear stained my face
Though I couldn't say why
When an ocean of blackness
Rolled on 'cross the sky
With a cry he looked up and then bowed his head
The air went dead still
Like the world took a breath
Then a sound burst up and out
Like a cheetah it leapt
It was like all creation
Had cried out and wept.
They poked him and prodded
He was dead as a stone
I suddenly realised
He died there alone
They lowered the cross bar
His friends took him away
Was this really the end?
Could this God man be dead?
Had his story concluded?
It just seemed too soon.
But that's not the end
In 3 days, look to the tomb.


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