Today, We Remember
Today, we remember
the long, scorching march into the tombstone—
eyes like oceans, salt pouring from flesh.
Today, we remember
the cross, 300 pounds heavy,
bent and dipped into his head.
How he slipped and swayed,
sandwiched in a crowd of tunes—
// slaps // claps // shouts//
“He healed the blind! He delivered many from afflictions!
Now, why can’t he save himself by the power of Beelzebub?”
Today, we remember
how flayed and flaccid he fell,
and none who drank from his cup of blessings
offered a hand. This man,
once worthy of a palm-carpeted floor,
had become everyone’s criminal,
a relic of death's penalty.
Today, Jesus, we remember
your heart shedding its veins,
taking the piercings of the cross
like a Lauren Daigle song.
Today, we see
that love is helplessness, not showiness,
that it is sacrifice, not selfishness.
You could have called down a million guillotines,
instructed angels with swords,
vanished from the sight of all
who stood waiting
for you to become good food for the grave.
But what did you do?
It is what we remember today:
your throat baked, a leaf in autumn,
hammers pumping nails like blood
into your flesh, blood pouring unto blood.
Today, we remember
like Kumba and Ngarbuh,
Yes… we remember!
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