Divina Boulangé Poems

That bitter night in Valley Forge stands above my other memories.
‘Twas winter, and the snowy winds whistled through the trees.
Gathered ‘round a dying fire, soldiers shivered from the night chill.
Few were sleeping; others keeping solemn vigil stood still.
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I'm smart.
I wish I wasn't.
Yes, you heard me right.
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Such simple words, yes. But, oh, how they bless!
They tenderly soften hearts hardened by life.
Strange how, though small, they are welcomed by all,
Bringing smiles to faces and an end to strife.
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He was falsely accused
While Barabbas was excused.
He bore sin’s awful heavy shame.
Upon Himself, he took me blame.
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“Crucify Him! Crucify Him! ” sounds the shout.
The mob grows louder as Pilate comes out.
The bound Man is led into the judgment hall
To be interrogated and condemned before all.
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Punch! Smack! Kick! Slap!
It's amazing what the tongue can do.
Slicing, stabbing, degrading, hating,
Oh, yes! Words can hurt you!
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You may hear the yelling; you may criticize the actions.
You may see the temper rising and recoil at the reactions.
But deep inside my frame, you don’t know what’s going on.
You don’t see the battle waging between my flesh and the Son.
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Crushed.
Broken.
Forsaken.
Lost.
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I write simply
yet in code.

My story you have
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