I sit and stare at water there,
beyond the palm where lake is calm
and try to write the words I'm thinking of.
But often times my words lack rhymes
as fingers shake and pencils break
while making sense of Christ's most precious love.
I don't know why I often cry
at such a price of sacrifice.
Though innocent, the Man of God obeyed.
With no remorse, He stayed the course
and took the tip of wicked whip,
then carried cross because He was betrayed.
He didn't quit. He carried it
without restraint, without complaint,
up rugged path to hill where all would be.
And without fail, He took a nail -
another one. They still weren't done...
And then was raised for all the world to see.
The pain was such it mattered much
and time was short for His escort -
those angels waiting anxiously to aid.
For all along, ten thousand strong
were in His care and waiting there.
But it would be His call was never made.
From cross He heard another's word -
another soul that He made whole.
It mattered not, the next cross he was from.
So it would be that grace was free
if we believe and always cleave
to Him who knows our hearts and wants to come.
So much unsaid with Jesus dead.
Though buried deep, they couldn't keep
our Savior from yet one more miracle.
So off His toes, He then arose
despite our sin to live again -
above the clouds. This wasn't typical.
I pictured sky in my mind's eye
and watched in awe at what I saw
and still envision how it all could be.
As I look back at all the flack
that Jesus took in God's Good Book
I just can't understand His love for me.
My stare is blank at water's bank,
beyond the fog I see a bog
as I forget all that I'm thinking of.
Now as before I tremble more.
In any case, I now erase
my empty words of Christ's most precious love.
My words are wrong. They don't belong.
My ev'ry word just seems absurd!
They don't do justice for all He has done!
Thoughts disappear. I shed a tear -
and say a prayer that isn't fair -
from little me - to God, the Mighty One.
This poem was a finalist in the October 2018 poetry contest