This is a special poem about Jesus and his crucifixion for the sins of humankind. |
-Into Christ- by Keaton Foster Upon the cross Intention Not to be lost Purpose Always in play Crucifixion day The man with the spear No doubt Doing what he feared Killing The savior of humankind Taking his life would be The linchpin to everything That was coming next Without his demise He would be seen As just another man A mortal degradation Of both time and space A stain upon the gift Of all that was given In the sacred garden Of the truest beginnings With his certain doom The man on the cross Would become a God A king of all Who could somehow manage To hold onto their faith Even after he left them So very much alone Amazed In this wilderness of wolves Walking through the shadow Of the valley of death They fear nothing of evil Because they know that God Will always be with them At the foot of the cross At the base of his demise His people are knelt down With their hands to the air Crying for that mortal man Who is slowly bleeding to death They are just feet away But not a one Could save him Nor would he Want them to Surely he cried out Absolutely He spoke of sin And related doubt Without question He spoke of the iniquities Of those willingly present And of those Wielding weapons Into Christ Such insidious intentions Are sleight of hand Border line parlor tricks Meant to distract Theatric displays Quite choreographed Many times he repeated Many times he questioned Oh my heavenly father Why have you forsaken me Why have you sentenced me Upon the back of your words I have always fought to live Yet Here I am dying for the sins Of not only myself But of everyone else Fearing nothing of destination Loathing only the penetration And the pain associated He continued to speak out With fervor and clout Into Christ The man with the spear Further inflicted fear Muttering under his breath Quickly my Lord and God Die so that you may rise again Fall from what you Have been nailed to Relent your life As I bleed you dry Jesus, the Jew, the gentile Killed by his own people The crucifixion A point very well made A point well taken He feared not the nail But the cross it was driven into Bleeding to death takes time Even with many wounds He would live until those below Knew, understood, without question Why he was up there Upon the cross Belief always takes time After he died His psychical death He was taken down Removed Prepped for his burial Wrapped in white cloth Placed upon a pedestal In the true darkness of a cave No one was meant to find him Yet, a few thousand years later Far too many to comprehend have And Into Christ they have since gone… Into Christ Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |