Poetry

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LOVE AND NOT SCORN

He was bound by a rope as he stood by my side,
Though he spoke not a word, there was pain in his eyes.
His back was bleeding, his flesh ripped and raw,
But there was no hatred, only love that I saw.
A rope of purple on his shoulders we placed,
And rows of sharp thistles together we laced.
“We’ll make him rue the day he was born.”
As I thrust on his brow the cruel crown of thorns.
We mocked him and laughed, and beat on his head,
I thought, “No big deal, won’t be long ‘til he’s dead.”
Much to my amazement, he made not a sound,
As his blood flowed freely and spilled on the ground.
The look in his eyes, I could not understand,
There was love and forgiveness in the eyes of this man.
His eyes pierced my soul, and searched deep within,
It was then that I realized the depth of my sin.
Later that day on the cross he would die,
But long before then, I began to ask why.
I was used to the cursing, the begging and screams,
I had seen men act like it was all a bad dream.
But this man was different, I could not explain,
The thought that his death would be for my gain.
This man they called Jesus, gave love and not scorn,
To the soldier who have given him a cruel crown of thorns.

© 1997, Jerry Ham

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