By Gina Marinello-Sweeney, March 26, 2016
Word Count: 283
Summary: A poem about Jesus’ passion and death, as rediscovered through a passion play.
A young man, portraying Jesus of Nazareth
Walked down the center aisle
No, down the path
Of the Place of the Skull
He held a wooden cross before him
The guard’s whip cracking at his heels.
As he continued, he began to stumble.
The blow fell harder.
The whip, a piercing blade, accosted his back,
Scorched his arms, maligned his side.
No, never maligned.
They could not soil the pure, cast out the holy.
But they tried.
And He let them.
He let them for us.
He drew closer to the altar.
An altar of today, a church timeless
Of centuries later,
Of today, tomorrow, and yesterday.
And then I saw it.
Overlapping glimmers of wings
A trembling angel
Two images, overlapping
One taller, larger, greater,
An encompassing image of the All
A crown of thorns.
And, another, smaller
With overlapping shadows of wings
Bent in pain.
I rushed forward, holding out my arms,
Closer, closer reaching,
My heart swelled as I leaned towards the bent figure,
My entire being caught up in the necessity to grasp
One of the silent wings,
Barely distinguishable in the faint light.
Two images overlapping
No, I will carry your cross.
I rushed forward and cradled his limp form.
I touched a glimpse.
The wing drew about me.
I knelt, unable to move.
It lifted, as if an eye cast upward,
And I followed it.
A crack of lightning sounded.
The outline of the larger figure that I had seen before
Grew larger, became filled with a brilliant
I bent in awe.
(The above excerpts have been switched to poetry format for the purpose of this post. The source material, I THIRST, is a novel available for purchase at Amazon.com)