Gentle breezes blow across my face
as I gaze endlessly down the steep precipice.
Strangely the forces of nature are kind
when I am about to die.
Blood stained stone behind me marks death.
Death for Jesus who hanged on the cross.
Murderers and robbers alike must die here.
I hanged them all with pride and vigilance.
Time spares no mercy for these,
extracting life slowly and painfully.
Vindication of this crime receives death only.
My position compels me to vindicate.
Hypocrites have no post in life,
I must die.
Lurching towards my death I see a man.
Beaten and bruised, he reaches out to save me.
"Why do you stop me from justice?"
"Let not your flesh die; however,
die to your flesh and you will be vindicated."
Copyright © Ijm seven | Year Posted 2016
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