Christian Poems - A PRICE PAID…

Anonymous writes

I hang here…
with the piecing pain of nails beneath my flesh,
as rust wars with my blood.

Running through me…
coursing through my veins the taint of metal
staining from within.

I close my eyes…
The pain’s too much...
To shut my eyes might shut the pain away.

Yet still I see…
the nails before my eyes and in my sight,
with eyes shut tight.

I can feel them in me…
the man shaped metal mingles with my blood;
The blood of God.

And in my mouth…
I feel the drops that trickle
from the wounds above my eyes.

I long for them…
To quench the thirst that burns.
A drop to douse the fire in my mouth.

My head…
stabbed with thorns from the crown that makes me king
of the people that would slay me.

King of what?
These people? This world?
Hanging on this tree… do they deserve me?

This tree…
who’s very life was given by my breath;
knows whom it holds.

An honoured role…
for a tree, made by me,
to hold my final moments so the world may see.

And now…
the very breath that gave it life is failing.
The weight’s too much, the weight’s too great.
If you are…
the Son of God, come down.
Tempting.

With Mother…
Watching - the pain within her face.
Her Son the criminal, hanging with disgrace.

But what crime?
Teaching?
Healing?
Helping?
Feeding?
Caring?
Loving?

Are these the crimes that warrant death?
Torture?
Pain?

And all the while…
my Mother looks upon me
with a look
that serves
to tear
the dying embers
of love for this world
from my heart.

She sees me with the very eyes that saw me born into this world.

She sees me with the very eyes that saw me grow into a man.

She sees me with the very eyes that saw me fly toward my goal.

And all the while she knew.
If only they knew.
If only they realised.

The nail…
that’s driven thorough my feet stings.
I feel it as it grates against my bone each time I feel I have the strength to move.
I can hear it grinding.

This is what they give me?
For caring for them?
This is what I get?
For loving them?
Foolish men.

Consumed by love for themselves, they are lost.

It’s hard to breath up here.
It hurts to breath up here.
My thoughts aren’t clear, up here.

Forgive them Dad; they don’t know what they do.
Dad?
Dad…?
Dad!

Why have you forsaken me?

And in that moment, everything you ever did, everything you’ll ever do, was held by God Himself.
And in that moment, the world changed…
The world changed…
The world changed…
The world was saved!

Washed clean, by blood that stains with love.
My blood.

Innocent blood.

Blood that should not have been shed.
Blood that should not have bled.

a price owed, a price paid.

And all you have to do is believe.

I did the rest.

© 2009 Daniel Michael Ware