Israel Ebiti (October 29th 1992 / Calabar)
Jesus: My Valentine
A saint although they say he was
who died all for love's sake;
yet not compared to the death on the cross,
for naught but death to take.
In season and out
he's always there.
His blood speaks out
his love so dear.
A broken stallion, an injured lamb
with battered and torn flesh.
A ritual to steal all from harm
to gift all with life's breath.
What precious gift is there to give
than a sacrifice of love,
with priceless gifts and grace to live
as gentle as a dove.
I searched the streets for mine.
Then there came so beautiful
Jesus, my valentine.
Comments about this poem (Jesus: My Valentine by Israel Ebiti )
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