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Poem

As modern Christians, we overlook
the meaning and purpose of Good Friday,
when Christ was crucified on a dreary day...
to bear our sins on His shoulder.


From the Via Dolorosa to distant Golgotha
too heavy and painful was the wooden cross
He carried through the streets of Jerusalem
as people spitted on Him and laughed; 
and with deep sadness and pity:
Jesus told the weeping women...
not to cry for him but for their children. 
And one of them wiped the blood off
His pale face with a soft cloth... 
to comfort Him in His final hours.


The mocking and laughter continued at the gate,
as Simon of Cyrene was ordered to carry the cross
to Calvary and before nine o' clock...
Jesus faced an excruciating crucifixion
by the Romans soldiers who had
the sharpest nails for his hands and feet;
and Jesus words loudly spoken in the Temple echoed again
in that afternoon getting cloudy and dark,
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who murdered 
the Prophets..." But the wickedness of the crowds
was too extreme to understand their despicable deed.


And there crucified as an impostor,
He cried out to His Father, " Eli, Eli...lama sabachthani?"
There was no answer...only a deadening silence had prevailed.
But Jesus trusting in Him whispered," Father, into your  
hands I commit my spirit." And in saying so He expired. 
Soon after there was a powerful earthquake strong enough to shake
the Temple's foundations...day became night
as everyone ran downhill so terrified.
The astonished centurion, witnessing the horrifying event,  
exclaimed," Surely He was the Son of God!"


Like good Christians, we must remember the long and agonizing hours
of Christ passion and death...oh, how precious 
was the divine blood He spilled to redeem us!
And as He was resurrected, so we'll be resurrected  by the trumpets!

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