Easter 2014
As we stand at the foot of his cross
His body broken, defiled
We are all aware of this terrible loss
That Jesus our Saviour has died
A man with a beautiful nature
A heart that was gentle and kind
Sent to give us hope for the future
Sent here with his children in mind
But wait, we are told he will keep his word
He will arise from the stone cold tomb
And true to his word, he arose on the third
Our sins are forgiven,
we will join him in heaven
And his love has banished the gloom.
Sheila Orpet April 2014
Good Friday
His face is fearful, blood on the brow,
his back criss-crossed with whip-wheals.
He is led to execution
accompanied by criminals.
Where now the laurel wreath, the diadem?
Where the kingdom he came to rule?
Once-adoring subjects bay for his blood,
preferring a thug, a murderer.
The body is stripped and placed on the frame.
Iron nails are driven home
Four beats in a bar:
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The right wrist first, then the left.
Finally the ankles, paired together.
Martellato e agitato
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The cross is raised,
and the body suspended.
Its weight drags on his wrists,
ligaments taking the strain.
Intense pain as muscles cramp,
their endeavour, fruitless – the effort, too great.
Tingling and numbness in both hands,
median nerves pin-damaged.
Many insults draw him deathward –
not just the jeers of the throng.
“He saved others:
Let him save himself!”
Sweltering sun – sweat pouring.
Fluid, ions – balance losing,
Heart, kidneys – slowly failing.
Blood flow – gently ebbing,
Chest collapsing – breaths reducing.
Organs – declining.
Consciousness – clouding.
Tempo morendo
Richard Y Ball
Was it worth it?
He gave up everything, you know,
that man hanging from the tree;
as he looks down does he see
the mess we’ve made of it,
you and me?
He did it willingly
but oh the pain he suffered, was it worth it?
We skip by without a glance
not caring about the price he paid for
you and me.
Is the world a better place?
What did we learn from his plan?
Did his example make a difference?
Do we think at all about that man -
you and me?
On Easter Sunday we will munch our chocolate eggs
ignoring the pain of Friday,
Good Friday,
when the price was paid
for you and me.
Shirleyanne Seel 13th March 2013
Low Saturday looks forward
A womb
pregnant with precious cargo,
the tomb
quietly awaits the morrow,
for whom
it will deliver new life.
Richard Y Ball