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 mercy. And the hide arches through the air again. 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 https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author