PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A lamb is born in the sleety night,

Knock-kneed, slippery, striped with blood,

Sheltered under his mother’s fleece,

He gropes for the stream of warm sweet milk.

As the sun rises, the world turns green,

While he stands white, fluffy, innocent.

He jumps stiff-legged into the blue,

Just for the joy of doing it.

Life is good; life is warm; life is short.

The more he is perfect, the more is his risk,

That one day he will be cut from the flock,

Stretched on an altar, throat slit, blood pouring. -

Crying “Was I born to be a sacrifice?”

A Lamb is born in the sleety night,

Slippery, crying, striped with blood,

Swaddled, safe in a farmer’s shed,

He gropes for his mother’s warm sweet milk.

As the sun rises, his world turns grey,

Yet he shines clear, bright and innocent.

Leaps for joy on the day of grace.

Life is good; Life is love; Life is short.

The more he is perfect, the more is his risk

That one day he will be cut from the flock,

Stretched on a cross, nailed, blood outpouring –

Crying,  “I was born to be your sacrifice.”