Friday, 25 March 2016

The Darkest Day

I wake in the darkness
One side of my face swollen from the beatings
It hurts when I breathe
I think my fingers are broken
Abba, Abba, I’d rather the bitter cup of hemlock than this
How much longer will they have their way?

I heard his screams during the night
A nightmare for every piece of silver – that bloodied money
I just don’t get it
He can bring people back from the dead
He can calm a storm.
What’s happening here?  What have I done?

Ecce Homo.
Pilate.  A thug in a smart suit.
Representative of power and might, or so he thinks.
Just a puppet in truth.  When I look at him, I see the puppet master
The one holding his strings
Only he has no idea, it is so sad to see.

No, no…he looked right into my soul
I saw him with the cross beam, hardly recognisable
His face beaten out of shape
But his eyes; piercing, full of forgiveness no anger or retribution
I don’t deserve that; how dare he, how can he forgive me.
I can’t go on, I want to run and hide!

Father, Forgive them for they really don’t know what they have done
Let the barrier be torn
There is now on Earth a seed of Heaven
No hiding places any more
Let your will be done here as well as in Heaven
It is finished