"My sin upon his shoulders"

I was in the streets when a hush fell upon the crowd,

A path was parted . People began to mock ever so loud.

They were pressed so tight everyone wanted to see,

I didn't understand, what could it be?

I pushed my way through trying desperately to see,

but what I saw could not have more horrified me.

There were three men carrying crosses upon their backs; bloody, moaning in pain,

but it was that man who just wasn't the same.

Dressed in a robe of scarlet, he stumbled down the path,

a heavy cross upon his shoulders as for every breath he gasps.

The soldiers cursed and mocked, spitting upon his face,

yet he stumbled on in silence, all the while being disgraced.

They wipped him as he walked, yet not a sound of pain did he cry,

his face was plucked and swollen, they all wanted him to die.

With a crown of thorns upon his head,

he looked at the hating crowd, knowing it was for them that he bled.

Reaching the hill his strength seemed to have collapsed,

the solders kept shoving him forward till at the top they were at last.

As screams of pain pieced the air

I hid my face, for surly it was too much to bear.

Nails piecing flesh with every heavy pound,

with a few strong heaves, they lifted the crosses off the ground.

Blood ran down staining red, the wooden cross,

and Jesus's face a mass of pain, his eyes filled with wrenching loss.

They never stopped laughing, cursing, or spitting,

Tossing for his robs; their hearts evil and flitting.

I was so angry I wanted to scream,

hoping to awaken and find it all a terrible dream.

Up on the hill the three crosses side by side,

they were all nailed to the wood but only one was mocked till he died.

Nails piecing his flesh as his blood comes in streams,

I cover my ears so not to hear the others screams.

I try to turn away, but my eyes stay glue

to he who died for me; could it really be true?

With one last breath Jesus gives his final cry,

"Lord! Forgive them for they know not what they do!" and with that my Savor dies.

"No!" I scream as I run to the cross,

I stay there sobbing, for now all is lost.

I reach up and touch his nail-pieced feet,

as rain pours down, his blood runs deep.

I glance to see a dagger being plunged in his side;

I can't stop crying; my savor has died.

"He was innocent!" I scream, but the wind swallows my cry,

the heavens clap with thunder, rain pours from the sky.

The water ran red with blood; ditches it then filled,

coming from he who took my sins, my Savor they had killed.

The earth trembled in anger, the wind screamed with a terrifying blast,

the world was torn apart as blinding bright lighting flashed.

The Lord of heavens was in a rage, his son nailed bleeding to the cross,

people began to feel his anger, as beneath their feet the ground trembled with loss.

Rocks crashed to the ground; the screaming wind still blew,

their hearts filled with fear, they had killed the Son of God; it was true.

Through the pelting rain, down the hill they ran,

I wish God would strike out in his wrath, but this was all in his plan.

All the world's sin, upon his shoulders was laid,

he died for our transgressions; our heavy dept was paid.

My heart is filled with sorrow,

the earth cries as if there were no tomorrow.

He died of sin so we could be free;

He died to give life to you and me…