MY CALVARY

I came to see at Calvary
A man nailed to a cursed tree
Hardly looking like a man
How could he be a king?
A crown of thorns his diadem
Blood his crimson robe
Nails his only ornaments
No sceptre and no throne
His body broken like a reed
His flesh torn from its bone
His head bowed down upon his chest
This cross his only home.
Some drew near to mock and jeer
Accusations filled the air
With hardened hearts they never ceased
To flog him with their disbelief.
But many came to worship him of whom
The prophets spoke
Laying prostrate at his feet
Their wailing protests pierced the throng
"He's innocent, He's done no wrong
The Lamb of God hangs on a tree
Our Savior-King is He"
I searched his face for one small trace
Of royal countenance or grace
And only saw, with great remorse,
A dying man upon a cross.
As day turned to dusk, a lance was thrust
Into his breathless chest
What came forth from this shapeless form
Lodged deep in my aching breast.
Water and blood flowed down his side
Convicted of my sin and pride,
I could no longer hide my guilt and shame.
Bowed before His broken frame,
I wept and begged Him to reply,
Are you the Holy One, my Adonai?
As death etched itself upon His pose,
A final, labored breath arose
Answering my anguished cry.
"Beloved of God,
For YOU I suffered
For YOU I die."

S. Boiangiu 1994