Good Friday


The sky moaned

Darkness shadow fell

 Light turned away

All was shaken


Soldiers feared

As angels chanted

Their songs of anguish

All was forsaken


Blood sprayed

From torn veins

Across rough wood

All was immersed


The nails of hate

Iron needles of terror

And with the stink of death

All was finished.


Mercy kissed judgement

Forgiveness birthed in horror

Hope from loves agony

All was fulfilled.



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1 Response to Good Friday

  1. Mary says:

    I really have been thinking about this whole scene this week. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like to have nails pounded into one’s hands and feet and to HANG on the cross until one died. I can’t imagine enduring this if one did not have to. Jesus did not HAVE to, yet he DID, of course. In my area there is a church that year around has three crosses on its grounds. When I drive by with granddaughter in the car we often talk about them…and their significance, as well as the ONE thief who would also be with Jesus in paradise. This poem really is a significant one for the end of lent. Happy Easter, Alan.

Thank you for reading my poems. Please don't feel you have to comment. I enjoyed writing them, I hope you enjoyed reading them, Be blessed.

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