He set his foot upon the firmament,
His eyes were fixed on His destination.
Though He knew the measure of His torment,
That would not quell His determination.
I'd nearly beaten the flesh from His bones.
Yet each time He fell, He would rise again.
I scourged Him, and crushed His body with stones.
He begged no quarter, He just said amen.
I nailed Him securely to that old tree,
He was hung there to die at my command.
I have made Him suffer so much for me.
As if I'd held His fate in MY own hand.
He endured the torture and bitter scorn,
So that I, through His blood, could be reborn.
This poem was a finalist in the August 2021 poetry contest