Good Friday Meditation Poem by James Tipp

In Him are mirrored
All our failures
The pain of contrast
Leads to the final solution.

Injustice is man's weakness
Each new age invents new ways.
As God stood among them
His challenge, was too great.

So today beneath the stairs
Their game took new meaning
The King is crowned
By men outside 'Torah'.

Darkness that leads to death
Overshadows the sun
The winding stair,
That leads to so much pain.

Yet the pain of betrayal
Is deeper than the wounds
That ooze and drip
Red puddle forming droplets.

The gate is open, the way is set
Pass the traders,
Who yesterday,
Sought your custom

Around about the voices cry
The telling clink of money
The smell of fresh baked bread
Normality goes on without pausing.

Somewhere on the fringe
The water seller waits
The thirsty crowd
Will make his day.

The contrast of compassion
The soldiers cursed by the crowd
The victims cursed by the soldiers
All are cursed by the act.

Here is the holocaust
The murderer, and rapist
The thief, the scum of humanity
Bound in this one act of shame.

The darkness settles
The rain cannot wash this moment
From the pages of man's history
Cannot expunge our failure.

That will only be explained
Lifted from the dirt
Dealt with in full
On Sunday.