Good Friday, Poetry Month

Good Friday

Picture from Photobucket
Can You Tell Me?

How do hands construct a crown of thorns without
tearing their own flesh?
Would not gloves, so thick to resist cruel piercing,
make for clumsy work?
How does the mind devise such torment without
piercing its own soul?
Would not such thoughts induce imaginings
so dark as to haunt waking and sleeping?

Yet they were men like you and me, pawns,

carrying out Satan’s plan. They did not comprehend

their bit roles in the age-old drama between

light and dark, good and evil,

nor did our adversary fathom

the twist in the

divine plot that would be

his undoing.

© Dorothy Johnson

Holy Week, April 16, 2014

photo courtesy of Don Blair


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