Hour by lonely hour
He prayed
the poisonous cup be taken from His lips,
until at last He drank for us –
allowing fools to seize the Slaughter Lamb.
Stripe by stinging stripe
He healed.
Flesh flayed and torn to bandage flesh abused,
ravaged and violently exposed –
the soul’s Pavilion, Covering and Shield.
Thorn by piercing thorn
He bore
the shame of all transgressions, every point
by pride His sacred head punctured –
defiant power relieved by glory defiled.
Step by aching step
He marked
the way of pain for all to come, who following
would by small compassions claim
a share in His desire and in His pain.
Nail by vicious nail
He dared
to multiply the fountains of His love
by five sustaining wounds refill
the emptied sense of man unmade by lies.
Age by endless age
He hung
forsaken, spent, forgiving, patiently
waiting with each heartbeat a prayer
for unity within the Body belov’d.
Drop by precious drop
transfused
creation – craving, craven, bled
so near to death and wan with loss His bride
suffered to spring from suffering revived.
Day by mounting day
He comes!
Lord Sabbaoth, the Dawn of Rest
filling the newborn world with sign
and sacraments of victory over death.
| Charlotte
lives in Lawrence, Kansas homeschooling the five of her eight children
still at home. Her conversion story appeared in Envoy, and Canticle
carries her features, poetry and regular humor column. She helps
other writers with extensive copy editing, writes frequent pro-life
letters to editors, gives writing workshops and homeschooling talks,
and has been a guest lecturer in a University of Kansas C.S. Lewis
Studies class. She and the family are on their way to Germany for
her husband Russ' spring semester sabbatical during which they will
live in a Focolare, "City of Mary," and learn more about building Catholic community. |
