|My heart was in good spirits as
the morning sun rose high.
The Passover was nearing, and the
time was drawing nigh
For the journey to the Temple and
my thoughts were turned again
To the way the Lord had spared us
when our enemies were slain.
I read the scriptures often, and
I pondered on each word
And marveled at the prophets who
God's voice had really heard
And I hurried on the journey, for
I didn't dare go slow,
As a Pharisee..respected, I would
have to make a show.
I speculated often on the trust men
placed in me
But deep inside, I wondered if to
Truth I had the key,
So this morning, on the highroad,
dusty, hot, I thought again
Of the recent conversations I had
had with other men
On the question of the prophets and
if God would really come
And would the sent Messiah be too
bright to look upon?
The road was getting noisy, many
people passing by
All talking of some Teacher who
for blasphemy would die,
The dreams were hard upon me, but
I couldn't help but see
A MAN WITH BLOOD UPON HIS FACE..WAS
LOOKING STRAIGHT AT ME
And then he stumbled onward with
a cross upon his back,
So badly lacerated..there was blood
from every lash
And I found that I was running to
be first upon the hill,
To look again upon that face. This
man that we would kill.
I had the strangest feeling as they
hammered in each nail,
I wanted just to wipe the blood
from off his forehead, pale.
Transfixed I saw him hanging like
a ghost against the sky,
A chill wind whipped around me and
the sun began to die.
There was not a bird still singing,
as if nature held her breath,
As if the whole world waited for
the moment of his death.
His eyes could barely open for the
blood that trickled down
And I wondered WHY the soldiers
thought to make of thorns, a crown.
Every moment it grew darker! He
looked down once more and cried
AND I FELT AS IF THE HEARTBEAT OF
THE UNIVERSE HAD DIED!
No-one broke his legs as always,
but a soldier thrust Him through,
That was where my searching ended.
Somewhere, deep inside, I KNEW
That when Heaven sent Messiah, He
would not be far too bright
So the heart of every sinner would
just perish at the sight,
He would be all scarred and bleeding.
He'd be nailed upon a tree.
He'd be GOD...Incarnate....stopping
on a road to look at me!
Annette Keeble Martens.
© 2009 Annette Keeble