No Relief

Burrowed and bought, this clan of soldiers
They cast lots to strip Him of His dignity
His crown was made of thistle and thorns
It caused the blood to trickle and bleed
Jesus was silent, do to Him as you will
My Father knows what's best for Me
There was no more relief in sight
As they hung Him from that tree
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace