Good Friday: Via Dolorosa

In the garden you
Sweat in drops of blood, you who
Made the earth blossom
And then a kiss
Betrays you with the violence
Of a close friend’s sword
By dark, the council
Meets and seals your fate. You let
Your own reject you
While, by firelight,
Your close friend lies, denies you
To keep himself warm
In the morning sun,
Amid the screams, the prefect
Washes his hands clean
Scourges eat your flesh
The soldiers taunt you, laugh and
Crown you now with thorns
On your back you bear
The curse of all the world. You
Fall; it crushes you
A stranger by the way
Shares the weight of the cross, but
Cannot drink the cup
Women weep, lament
But do they cry for you or
For the brown, dead tree?
The nails are hammered
You fill your lungs with anguish
While night takes the crowd
But one sees through it:
A thief who sees your kingship
And dwells now with you
Then, last words to she
Who gave you life; the Life, you
Now prepare to leave
With a cry, you give
Up your spirit; It’s finished,
You proclaim, and die
Down we take your body,
In the thrall of darkness, to
Its tomb in the garden

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