Updated: Apr 9
Lying, in pain Flesh ripped and torn By the cruel whip Knowing his own fate Condmmed by the twisting Of his own words Mocked and abused he waits Darkness falls, blood dries No sleep, no rest Waiting for the dawn.
Dawn’s light Eyes that haven’t slept open Lying still in the dirt Movement is pain Dust & dirt caked in the dried blood Feet barely able to stand Dragging a heavy cross.
The cross drags, Weight almost unbearable Rubbing raw the torn flesh Blood trickles down his face The crown cutting in A stumble, a fall, Pain as he stands again The final hill Golgotha.
Movement is agony Nailed, hanging A few words pass from his lips To a man on another cross A drink refused, foul wine vinegar Torture, a spear in his side Crying out, despair Release, death.
A woman at the open tomb
Weeping; her Lord gone
She meets a man
'Mary' he says