Journey To The Hill Of Skulls Poem by Melody Thaila Kuku

The back is bent,
The breathe laboured,
Heart pumping with guilt,
The red marks of sin's whip,
Lay bare on the torn flesh.

Crawling, stumbling,
Yet struggling on.
The thoughts scream to give up,
'Yield to your master Sin and be at peace'.
But though the king of hell stand on the way,
Still the traveller walks on.

The sun scourge the back,
Pain walks beside,
Now a companion.
It was told that the road to the hill was narrow,
But this torture was not prepared for.

The way is slippery,
The rain of pleasure hs fallen,
The feet slides into the mud,
But the heart is strong,
And he moves on.

From a far away Town he had come,
The tale he had often ignored,
Pokes the heart hard,
Of a hill where peace dwelt,
And joy made the heart merry,
And one who loved him hung.

The hill is seen by the eye,
Trembling, breathing fast,
Still the traveller climbs,
For it was a journey not of ease.
Grabbing rocks, steadying the feet,
Till the top is reached at last.

All he heard was true,
A cross and a man,
Whose blood flowed like newly opened springs,
Tears race down the cheeks,
Who was he that this great man would die for him?

Moving close, kneeling under th cross,
Letting the blood wash his weary back,
Heart's burden is flunged away,
The back straightens in soothing comfort,
The marks are gone,
Sin is driven away like one gone mad.

Peace swim in the soul,
On the hill of skulls.
The tears are wiped away by blood so warm.
The breeze of love blows around,
The traveller is lifted up in the arms of one who loved,
So much that he died for those he loved.

Lost in the painful beauty of the cross,
He sees the wounds,
The whips and pain taken for him.
Sin has lost power,
Darkness replaced with light.

He rise,
A new man,
Robed in holiness.