My Savior died on that cross for me and everyone, and I want to commemorate it
The nails drive into His hands
His feet are next
They lift the cross up
And plop it in the hole
He is mocked
He is scorned
All the day long
The sun sets
He screams in anguish
Then breathes His last
They stick a spear in His side
He is gone
Darkness sets in
As the world moves on
Forgetting this Man
Who is God’s Son
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed this poem. However, you could probably use a more poetic word than 'something' in line 11. ~Lacey~