By Yasen Vedrin
(The Bird Within You)
My Lord stumbled and fell to the dust of the road.
A wild soldier kicked Him and yelled through the space:
"Stand up now!" The Cross groaned beneath its black load,
As if it had voices, while tears stained my face.
Above His crushed ribs the whip crackles and flies.
"Stand up, blessed King!" I can hear someone scream.
But all human strength from His bleeding back dies.
My Lord suffers helpless. How moves He downstream?
A sharp glance is scraping me: "Come here! Draw near!
Lift His Cross very quickly! It falls to the ground!"
I run out in horror. Swords, armor appear.
A terrifying look fixes me without bound.
I pull back my chest in a frightened, quick stride,
Expecting the Cross to destroy me completely.
I walk there. No questions. My lips tightly tied.
A miracle! The Cross bears me, winged and sweetly!
Each cut of the blade, every sorrow and sin
Sink deep in a chasm; I walk without fear.
Is it You, eternal Lord, washing within
The stains of my guilt, as You stumbled down here?
How can my voice shout to the world in its daze,
That once Your Blood gushes, it brings Holy Grace?
The path on the hill ends; I lower the base,
The Lord looks in silence, with love in His face.
And letting loose softly His memorable sigh:
"I know who you are. You’re my Simon, anew!
The Cross found you out as the crowds passed you by!
God called you the Faithful, with Love trapping you!"
My Lord breathed His last. After earthquakes and cries,
The Earth hushed in echoes under darkening skies:
"Praise Jesus!"
No comments:
Post a Comment