Hanging From A Blood Soaked Tree Poem by Adam M Snow

Hanging from a Blood Soaked Tree
By: Adam M. Snow

One morn as under a great tree I lay,
Misery held me in its pain-filled sway.
I dreamt of a life where I wasn't numb,
Sleepwalking my way toward the dusk to come.

I felt sweat drops that I thought were rain,
And opening my eyes, saw a man hung in pain.
His feet were crossed and his arms stretched wide;
I could see no life in this man. Had he died?

Arose a voice from the blood soaked tree,
'I died for you so that you are free.'

I sat there stunned in my ignorant sleep,
My curiosity teased by a tree that speaks.
I lingered in repose, knowing not what was said;
Clinging to the echoing voice in my head-

'I did this for you.'
With eyes of blue-
He wept.

His head was pierced with thorns claw-like,
And each hand was nailed by a rusty spike.
He calls to me by my name,
I couldn't help it but show my shame.

Words arose from his lips,
As his blood still drips.
His voice so dear,
So pure, so clear;
Spoken once more-

His voice was dear as it said to me,
'I died for you so that you are free.'

There then rose a light, blinding as the morn;
'Fear not, ' he said 'For I am reborn'
'Behold, ' he said, 'My blood is made pure,
I am not dead, I am dying's cure! '
His voice drew near, and whispered he:
'I died for you so that you are free.'