Reflections on the Cross

I looked upon Christ on the Cross   

A mangled body, a broken frame, 

 
This God _man subject to abject shame. 

 
A crown of thorns, as droplets trickle   

Of blood, sweat and tears co-mingled   

A spear-thrust causes a trickle once again 

 
As straining ribs and hanging arms 

 
Reflect excruciating pain,   

I pause to ponder; Why hangs he there? 

 
Not Pilate, not the maddened mob, not even Judas   Propelled him there.   

‘twas my sins and mine alone that nailed him to the tree   

That tree of salvation that redeemed me.   

And yet what a poor return I make to thee   

I humbly beseech; Oh Lord I grope, I seek   

The spirit indeed is willing Lord   

But the flesh is weak.   

- Jeannette Cabraal