Seven From The Cross

We saw your pain as you staggered to Golgotha

The burden of the cross, the weight of man’s sin

Upon your bloodied shoulders.

How we laughed when you fell to your knees

How we shouted in glee as the crown of thorns

Was thrust upon you head.

We, your closest friends, your chosen few

Too scared to stop the wrong

So frightened we joined the baying mob.

Yet still you forgave us, even forgave those

Who were causing you pain.

As the storm clouds gathered our laughter died

Fear crept through the baying throng

Only the soldiers mocked and

Punished you.

Then you were nailed to the cross

And hauled aloft for all to see.

Your skin shredded by the scourges of the cowardly

Hung in bloody tassels about you body.

Beside you two common thieves

Put there to shame you, to mock your true status.

One of the them asked of you,

“What becomes of me?”

‘Truly, I say,” you replied,

“today you will be with me in Paradise.”

You looked over the gathered mob

And through lips blooded by Roman fists

Shouted, “Father forgive them, for

They know not what they do.”

Still some people laughed, still the Romans mocked.

Seven times, you screamed from that wretched cross

Your last breath saved for,

“Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.”

Seven times and only once did you despair of the Holy father.

He made the ground shake,

The skies go black, the birds disappear.

Bolts of lightning cut through the blackness

The Lord in torment at His son’s suffering.

Then it was done

Then it was done


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