Petals in the Light

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My Lenten Journey

I contemplate with great distress,
as anguished teardrops start to flow
and witness visions of Your death
and crucifixion long ago

for me...

At Gethsemane, You implore,
while blood soaked sweat obscures Your Face;
submerged in agony and fear,
to save the sinful human race

I weep...

You’re flogged with whips, assailed and scourged,
no slice of skin remains unturned;
exposed, Your wounds are raw and gashed,
yet for Yourself, You’re unconcerned

I wince...

Around Your eyes, harsh pain protrudes,
a crown of thorns now stabs Your head,
a surge of blood cuts short Your sight,
a swollen Face, for us You bled

I weaken...

With chains and rope, they bind Your throat,
You drag Your Cross, the throb sears deep,
pushed forward first, jerked backwards next,
old women wailing at Your feet

I tremble...

Your mangled knees succumb to rocks,
Your Mother’s heart at such a loss;
no flesh remains, Your shoulder bared,
unending grief, beneath Your Cross

I cringe...

Your garments matted down with blood
are stripped away with ruthless force,
Your lacerations gush anew
as soldiers mock with no remorse

I grimace...

Blunt trauma blasts through hands and feet
when nine inch nails are thrust through skin;
still raged, they pull Your arms from joints,
Your final painful breaths begin

I pray...

Upon Your Cross, with perfect love,
ten thousand drops of blood outpoured;
on bended knee, my eyes meet Yours,
I’ve been so blind, I’m sorry Lord.

I collapse...

Copyright©2003 Mary Davila

Jesus on His Cross

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