Poetry

Sacrificial Lamb (Reprise) (A promised offering for Holy Week)

By 29th March 2013December 9th, 2019No Comments

Do not sleep on my account, whilst I with troubled mind doth dawn await
Will the deed foretold be done, a gesture black within his heart
To take the silvered coin of Rome, betrayal comes to count the cost
Forever lost in darkened realm of gnashing teeth and searing heat

My Father’s plea I offer up to rid this cup away from me
A poisoned chalice to embrace, should thy will be done this day
Endure the pain of sacrifice, for I am here in mortal form
If your stated aim not mine is set upon the tree entwined

I hear the hurried sandals scrape upon the stone as fate draws near
A whispered kiss upon my cheek, the haunted look from deep inside
The signal made, advance the troops of Caesars horde to take their prey
Awakened from their stupor voices raised to save the day, too late

Proconsul’s wife in dream hath warned of coming Saviour for mankind
He himself forswore acceptance of his instrumental role
To local sovereign head he sent, the poor unfortunate of choice
Ridiculed by earthly king the Nazarene returns to Rome

Baying crowds and Pharisee, both vent their feelings at this man
The troubled ruling governor doth not their hatred understand
Warning heeded now returns with vengeance should he mind their call
Perhaps placate with flogging sound of Ripping, Gouging, Scourging kind

Unnecessary suffering didst fall upon deaf ears enjoined
To bring about conclusion sure, to crucify upon the hill
Washed away the stain of blood upon the scarlet hands of Rome
The choice was ours to set Him free, again for pity’s sake ignored

The chosen twelve in disarray, thrice denied by leading Son
Procession forth to ‘place of skulls’ with wooded anchor for to weigh
Women of ‘Jerusalem’ do not weep and wail for me,
Stations met on platform steep, Cyrene aided when in need

Mother’s gaze tore at my heart and pierced Her own as prophesied
Cool damp cloth which soothed my brow, you now are blessed and for all time
Onward to the table laid in preparation for this dish
Thieves are raised as is their due, adornment for the main course served

They raiseth up my body whole upon the wooded frame secured
With nail and thong and crowned of head, with nameplate for to ridicule
The Son of Man asks to forgive for they that do not know it’s He
This very day the Kingdom sure, in promise for repented thief

Behold thy Son my Mother dear, My Son behold thy charge
“Eloi, Eloi Lama Sabacthani” a cry to Father one last time
I thirst for I like any man hath needs upon this earthly realm
Now it’s over now it’s done, into your hands my Spirit comes

Richard Gildea

Author Richard Gildea

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