a poem by Phillip Joseph Hussey, UK

It was He who thought of all our tomorrows
From the beginning to the very end
He became our sacred man of sorrows
When he sought our failings to defend
Rising up high on the ragged cross
Cruelly nailed and scourged, crowned in thorns
The skies darkened at our deepened loss
The air filled with mocking, shouting scorns
When His cry filled the void in urgency
Eyes blinded by blood, naked and alone
Darkness became a joyful agency
Three days later behind the covering stone
From the silence and calm after the storm
Lightning flashed and the earth was shaken
A light emerged and brightened in His form
When emerged from His sleep did He awaken

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