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Good Friday Poem (inspired by Psalm 22)

by Wendy Turpin

Abba my wounded hands and feet are driven through hard with roman nails that fasten me to this tree

king of the jews

I ache I am nothing more than a mere animal

a disgrace

Abba I cannot see shed blood from torn skin caused by a thorny crown drips without mercy into my eyes


Abba I can hear my mother weeping I long to comfort her but I can`t


Abba shadows prevail around me satan is here tempting me again

evil awaits

Abba it feels like I am shut up and far from your presence I long to feel the joy of you within me again will your wonders be known in the dark

s  e  p  a  r  a  t  i  o  n

Abba I`ve been stripped and flogged then suspended on this tree of humiliation

the price for sin

Abba my head aches I cannot breathe --- life flows from me --- can you see it tracking my skin down this cross into a pool beneath 

the sacrifice

Abba you said I am the chosen one the perfect atonement the lamb spotless and without wrinkle for a fallen world


A pitchblack earth in the afternoon my flame is burning out

your will be done

Abba into your hands I commit my spirit

from death to life

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