Cross Poem

An Untitled Poem

I was feeling pretty motivated on March 1, 1996. On that day, I wrote three poems, Psalms of Praise to the Lord, My Love For you, and the following poem which you are about to read. I never did find a title for this. Actually, I have never let anyone else ever read this poem. I was embarresed by it when I wrote it, and I cannot remember why. Anyways, here, published for the first time on teh web, is this poem.

My dearest love, how I shudder when I see the way they treat
One as dear as you,
They tried you and convicted you
on crimes that you did not commit.
I watched in terror as those who once claimed to love you
spat upon your face,
Not one grateful for what you have done.

They marched you up the hill, making you carry your own cross,
weak as a lamb,
'Till one who was still fateful, offered his hand for help.

I weaped as they nailed you to that cross,
While those who once followed soiled your holy name.
As you died on that cross, in hopes that we should live,
They played games with your things at your bleeding feet.

Yet, not once did you cry, nor try to escape,
even though you easily could,
You stayed on that cross and died,
so that we could be free.