The man, motionless, sagging as a weathered piece of wallpaper –
tearing from the top, hangs, hangs, hangs
from the blood-stained frame worn smooth from daily crucifixions.
With knees bent awkwardly to the left and arms outstretched and nailed to wood,
his chin rests upon his bloody chest as the body protrudes from the cross.
Dark, blood-stained eyes stare out upon a red-washed landscape,
scanning the world full of people, near and off in the distance, now and lives to come;
his breathing is labored, each exhale painful from bruised ribs
each inhale impossible from the weight of his limp body;
the man struggles, licks his parched lips and speaks…
Father… forgive them… for they… for they… do not know… what they do…
they hurt they do not know they do not comprehend
i love them you love them let me bear their pain their suffering
i beg you please take all their pain and place upon me I will endure
all who will hurt put their pain on me all their tragedies heartaches sufferings illnesses
the years will come and go but they will not change they will always be scared
IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS
my body is weak take away the hurt
i am SCARED
i am so afraid of dying father
so scared
i feel alone
will they ever understand why
will they
answer me
i just want them to love you
i just want them to love you
i just want them to know who i am
who i am who i am know who i am
to know how much you love them
The swell of bystanders murmuring, pointing, and snickering, at the man
relish in the festivities of Roman ringleaders as they gamble for his clothing.
But, as hours float away and the sun scorches the ground, the crowd, the man –
uninterested spectators wander away to tend to more pressing affairs.
forgive me if I have failed as i gave all I had
you lied
i hurt i am dying father FATHER F A T H EERRR
The man struggles to lift his head heavenward and screams
in a broken voice that could have been yelled by an eighty-year-old smoker.
My God… My God… why… Why! Why have you forsaken me!
no
no
no no no no no father i feel you here beside me
holding me loving me comforting me revealing to me let your will be done
I am terrified I must die I will carry their load suffer their sins
I will pay their debt let your will be done I love them you love them
I give all that I am all that I will be all that love offers
Let my suffering my suffering be their glory
Warm moist air pushes rain heavy clouds across the sky
casting the area into a dull lifeless masterpiece of gray.
The day has drifted into eternity.
With a smile on his lips and glimmer in his eyes
the Messiah, the Christ, the Savior lifts his head
forgive them for they do not know what they do – and speaks
Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.
Compiling God's Code 