Should I be cloth soaked in your blood
Or thorns sunk deep in your brow
Dare I wish to be splintered wood
Suspending you before a woeful crowd

Should I be the tomb in a garden plot
Or heavy stone to hide your pain
Maybe costly spices to slow the rot
Of my endless guilt and horrid shame

If I were all those things
And much more besides
I still couldn’t bear the sting
And be the one crucified

I can’t replace thorns upon your head
For thorns of my own
Make you rise from the dead
Or restrict breakage of your bones

Unworthy though I am
Unworthy when I leave
I thank you for the Lamb
For granting reprieve

For love and compassion
Patience and tolerance
Amidst ungodly reactions
And spiritual imbalance

How could you die
For the wretched man that I am
My tongue full of lies
My soul should be damned

To experience such gloom
Anguish and grief
Refuse my impending doom
Not seek your relief

I’ll never understand
The stretch of your love
How it penetrates man
How you love us above

All that exists
From the largest to least
To have nailed down your wrist
Though I’m a brutal beast

I can’t cry enough tears
Pray enough prayers
To render myself clear
And free from all snares

Your crimson has cleaned, brightened
The foulest of me
Pinned all my sins, lightened
Freed me indeed

Let me say before I close
Though I scarcely know how
I love that you rose
And gave hope to us now

I love you dear Lord
From the moment I wake
Fearless I soar
To the end of my fate

May I live out my days
In awe, in reverence of you
To gaze on your glory, I pray
From a room with a view.

Donna B. Comeaux
Freelance Writer, Author, Poet
March 27, 2014
Copyright Pending