Eternal Timber
The Cross is our crutch: we are lamed and maimed,
Crippling sin in our soul,
Defiled and scourged, our faith defamed,
Golgotha our gloried goal.
The Cross is a bludgeon for smiting down
Death in his sable gown.
It’s Roman-hewn and Jesus-borne,
Encircled with blood-flecked thorn.
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment