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undeserved
from the cup of His suffering we drink, wash clean our hearts while we rethink
like birthing, a woman's travail, in His hands there were nails
after enduring the cat-of-nine-tails
never gave in to fear of his Father's will, upon the cross He did surely fulfill
crying "Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani", when felt He the weight of his testimony
"for it is by grace that you have been saved", not of yourselves in this day
for works alone cannot heal, what sin has instilled
as the rope within starts to fray
This is beautiful. 'The
This is beautiful. 'The story' of Christ's suffering, unfortunately, so misunderstood by so many...even believers. To speak one's truth is to exist.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "