Image by congerdesign from Pixaby
Friday
Abram set his eyes on the twinkling stars
to count his promised progeny.
Messiah was swallowed in shadows as
the sun itself died at midday.
Moses commanded the children’s doorposts
be clothed in a sacred lamb’s blood.
In agony, the true Lamb of God bathed
humanity in His own lifeblood.
David wielded a harp and a lyre
and carefully led his cherished lambs.
The Son of David bore the mode of His
own execution
and was Himself slaughtered before the eyes of His beloved flock.
All of ancient holy writ angles toward this
to this ghastly moment
the putrid wine
the violence
the confusion and chaos
the sound of crushing
the infinite abandonment
on that Good Friday fuming with dashed hopes.
And we have caressed and cradled iniquities,
coddling, nurturing rebellious stains.
This Rescuer took them from us, strapped
the offenses to Himself
and murdered them all in His own demise.
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