Oblate Program at Belmont Abbey, NC

Good Friday

Long the journey was not
from Pilates chair of judgment
to the place of the skull,
the pain endured however beyond human knowing,
body torn with lashes,
head deeply wounded by sharp thorns,
blood pouring into his eyes,
face beaten black and blue beyond recognition,
the continued jeering
mocking,
being spit upon,
the soul shattering thirst from the great loss of blood,
the short sorrowful encounter with his loving suffering mother,
mercy incarnate shown no mercy;
slowly moving,
stumbling,
falling three times
getting up
a crawl more than a walk,
finally,
the place of the skull,
stripped naked before all to see
truly a cause of shame,
the terrible nails
ripping into his wrist and feet,
the hanging,
fighting for breathe,
grasping in deep all consuming pain,
then after three long hours
death.

The cold dark tomb awaits,
the body cold,
wrapped,
no time for herbs and spices,
for the Sabbath comes.

Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
Holy Spirit Monastery

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Categorised in: Br. Mark, Poetry

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