And even He, who claimed to be the Son of the Father of you and me
was frightened on this day.
The end was nearing
still no light
the clouds grew darker
his familiar power seemed not in sight.
And as the crowd shouted
confusion
loss
hate
empathy
apathy
surprise
laughter
cruelty
and dispair;
his body torn beyond repair.
His mother sobbed and screamed with his blood in her hair.
The power He knew
felt far away
but in His pain he chose to stay.
What a fool some would say
what a liar
only a lunatic would last this long -
and in my hour of need
when I forget that He chose to bleed,
is when that moment He held on because He trusted His Father's song
of a new day in three
renews my strength to carry on.
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