The Last Hour of the Christ
I wear the crown of hatred
misunderstanding and despair upon my hair
upon my back a wooden cross I bare
I know not why I’m hated so
all the people seemed to love me just a week ago
my skin is cut from head to toe
from whips of leather by men who wish to see me die
I spoke the truth for all the people to understand
my words of truth where words to set man free
from degradation hate and hell to live in harmony
for the rest of history
I cured the sick and healed the blind
with the touch of my own hand
I’ve walked on water and walked on sand
to preach and bring my truth through out the land
people came from all around
and would sit for hours upon the ground
I once had twelve good men who followed me around
now there’s only eleven one man let me down
my words have been mistaken
my God he has forsaken
for that my life they’re taken
I believe that I have failed
as my hands and feet are nailed upon this wooden cross
as they raise me in the air
all their sins I know I must bare
I want to scream not fair not fair
I’m just a young man I only wanted to teach
there are so many more people that I wanted to reach
my age is only thirty three
I pray my God
that they the people will remember me
written by Dennis H. Davis
This poem was written from the human aspect of Jesus Christ. I wrote this poem with no effort what so ever it was as though it was being told to me. I watched my hand move across the page with a purpose a message I believe Jesus wanted this poem written.
Copyright © Dennis Davis | Year Posted 2010
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