JoelJosol Posted March 28, 2021 Share Posted March 28, 2021 These punctures on the head, with blood dried, masked his face,were pierced by mockery and thousand insults weavedlike spikes from thorn branches, his crown for his head.This skin, these lesions, sank death closer to the bones.These bruises came from lies so wicked enveloped in fistswhose blows spared neither body nor limbs.This back was so disfigured, lacerated, and torn openby sheep bones of hate, each clawed itself into skin,into flesh, with every flagellum's whip.These ribs, this open fissure, jabbed deep by a spear,poured forth water of forgiveness, streamingto cleanse an earth, blood-soaked.His time of death-3 pm, Friday. (A poem meant to remember Jesus.) Quote "Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.