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 We nailed the hands long ago,
Wove the thorns, took up the scourge and shouted
For excitement's sake, we stood at the dusty edge
Of the pebbled path and watched the extreme of pain.
But one or two prayed, one or two Were silent, shocked, stood back And remembered remnants of words, a new vision, The cross is up with its crying victim, the clouds Cover the sun, we learn a new way to lose What we did not know we had Until this bleak and sacrificial day, Until we turned from our bad Past and knelt and cried out our dismay, The dice still clicking, the voices dying away.

by Elizabeth Jennings
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