Good morning everyone.
Not a new one, but suitable for a Friday in Lent:
Blood: A Meditation
The sword falls,
exposing a thin red line
separating life and death,
today and forever,
goodness in a neighbor's eyes
and the face of evil in human form.
See it cut,
opening a red stream
pouring out over the earth,
a river of grief,
and loss,
and sorrow and confusion,
exhilaration,
adulation,
oppression,
the mark of Cain
ever with the human race,
as men see themselves
as more worthy,
more deserving,
more needy,
more right,
wallowing in the river
no matter the price
as demons howl.
The whip rips the flesh,
the thorn pierces,
the hammer rends,
this blood trickles down
like all the other blood,
yet where it touches,
light grows
to combat the dark,
light to heal the anger in the neighbor's eyes,
to heal the hurt of the lost and bereaved,
to stand with the homeless,
the oppressed,
the needy.
All those touched by this light
offer up your hands,
hands for the light to use.
Pass it on,
this light given to us in blood,
in love,
in redemption.
Pass it on,
hand to hand,
word by word,
to heal the mark of Cain,
the death march of time,
and quell that demon howling,
the song of grief
that has been mankind's birthright
since the fall.
Good Friday, ms feather.
