Unceremoniously
A twisted torn branch
Bearing thorns, inch long
Was pressed down
On Jesus’ head
Piercing the scalp
Emanating excruciating
Throbbing pain
Eyes smarted in sweat
Face, blood-stained
Face, spittle-spat
Draped in purple cloth
They ridiculed the King of Kings!
Humiliated God-on-earth
They cried out, ‘He’s not our king! ’
‘He claims to be the ‘Son of God! ’
Demanded Him to be crucified
Asked Barabbas be released, instead
He took upon himself, the shame
He endured scourging strokes’ pain
Staggered under the mid-day sun
Under the weight of the cross
Fatigued, weakened by blood loss
Towards the hill, to be slain
To be crucified!
To die ignobly!
Yet, on the cross, compassion driven
Lifted His eyes towards heaven
And said: Father, forgive them
For they do not know
What they do!
As the Lord had promised
On the third day
He had risen from the dead
Tombstone, rolled
His tomb, empty!
3.4.2015
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