The Passion

When I cry, I bleed.
Gasping and breaking, 
Reeling and shaking.
Is blood so rich that heaven casts but salt
To crust the face that begs your mercy?
I bleed.

When I cry, I burn.
Blistering agony, 
Festering, damning me.
For all that’s worth I tear the skin that binds my flesh
That keeps me chained upon Your anointed rock.
I burn.

Why hast thou forsaken me?
Why hast thou broken me?
Why hast thou tormented me?
Why hast thou deserted me?

When I cry, I drown.
Suffering tearfully, 
Treading so fearfully.
Parched lips suck dry the heavy waste of toxic promise
Rich with priestly lies and mendacities virtue.
I drown.

When I cry, I choose
Hurting and pleading, 
Torn up and bleeding.
Planked and nailed, a gnarled crown crawling with vermin’s teeth
To scream Your name, Thy shattered Son … The Cross
I choose.

Woman, behold thy son.
Behold thy mother.
It is finished.

Amen

A

“The Passion” © John Anthony. All rights reserved.