Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Merciful Victory

The whip slashes 
through the air
and meets bare skin.
I shudder
as He falls
and is assaulted by a Roman guard.

His head bleeds from the thorns,
blood trails into His eyes.
His back is opened from the flogging,
tendons exposed.
His life is pouring out
for those who mock Him.

Sacred blood
dripping on the hard clay.
He does not cry out
for mercy,
yet He is

And the hide arches through the air
Flesh of animal
against flesh of a man.
Again He rises,
calling on strength
no man possesses,
moving closer to His victory.

copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr 

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