Seven Hundred Thousand Roses

…

 

He speaks wisely, and I ignore him.

He works a miracle, and I compare him to the devil.

He extends me peace and consolation,

and I angrily slap his hand away.

So I take him bodily, roughly,

and he comes obediently,

ever obedient to His Father.

 

And I lash him to the wood.

I tremble a bit now,

giddy with rage.

How dare he?

I feel the spike heavy in my hand.

In a wide arc the mallet falls,

and from the wound comes a red, heavy flow.

Seven hundred thousand roses bloom at once.

The full fragrance of mercy.

How dare he!

 

His heart spills out innocent love,

the love of a child

that in Gethsemane asked,

“Are you sure of this Father?”

“Are you really sure?”

Even then the blood began to fall

in heavy drops.

 

It is a consuming love

a fire

a strong steady wind

It comes for you

It is the Kingdom

the Power

the Glory

Love now

and forever

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…