Sketch by Patrick Murphy

Before time

          your counsels chose

          that you would lose

eternal ties

          with your one

          and only Son.

–

Not sparing Him

          you let the whips

          fall and the blood drip.

Judges condemned

          as the priests quipped.

–

On a dark hill,

          like Abraham

          you left your Lamb.

No bright angel

          unveiled a ram

–

snared in thickets

          by its horns.

          Instead, the thorns

on Christ’s head

          caught the sacrifice

          of God’s own life.

–

Nails split

          His wrists and feet

          and severed sweet

communion, which

          left you bereaved.

–

Not even birth

          pangs compare to

          what you went through

at your Son’s death.

          Abba, thank you.

________

The form of this poem was inspired by “Hymne to God the Father” by Ben Jonson