Cross

Cross

I, tree, by seed to grow up tall,

my destiny begun.

How could I know my purpose

in killing God’s own son.

If I had known, I gladly would

to lightening – invite

to end my growth by fire

before the fire’s light.

But I was not so lucky

to end another way,

so when they nailed Him to me,

my knots lament the day.

Oh God, I pray forgive me.

I ache to know the rest –

wish never born at all on earth,

my God’s instrument of death.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s