I saw you fall.Heard the names they called.
I saw your cuts, your bruises and such.
Not that I did much.
Kneeling here, listening, unable to hear.
Breath, pushed from struggling lungs.
Dangling on rusted iron spikes, one with a spear lunged.
Dead, yes dead, hopes died in that tree.
I could not would not see.
You had died for me.
Walking away, I left you hanging on that day.
Night fell, the crow dispersed to tell.
I didn’t hear, though I listen still.
Stumbling, unguided along this rocky briar laden trail.
Searching for purpose in a garden so frail.
Nights covered in due, the third morning I met you.
Stranger in the mist, of morning like this.
Pierced hands while the film from my eyes.
No matter how much I look, seeing you there, now here I cry.
Was it for me you died, is for me you arose, I sighed.
Not worthy am I.
Your words, Grace sufficient for thee.