Mark Walters

Veteran Poet - 1,043 Points (1953 / Georgia)

Barabbas - Poem by Mark Walters

I'm dying of thirst from wanting my way;
Drank deep from the well of sin in my day.
My life is now potsherds; all broken and dry;
Don’t have the moisture, to spit in their eye.

Sentenced to death for riot and murder;
Awaiting my fate, the Governor’s order.
I lived all my dreams, now Pilate will try,
To silence the masses, I need only die.

Keys clank in old locks, my future they tell;
Keepers approaching, to drag me to hell.
But what's the deal here, they’re not taking me?
To the dungeon across, they bring death's decree!

Look at that sissy, all down and forlorn,
His blood spattered brow, his clothing all torn.
I see his face now, as they cross in the light;
It’s Jesus the Rabbi, they’re here to benight!

I guess He’ll get his; why don’t they want me?
Now they squash good men, and set roaches free?
The guards pass my cell, with Jesus in tow,
“Why do you want him”, I ask? “I must know”.

Get back in your hole; it’s not your day now.
They want to kill Jesus, they’ve taken a vow.
They’ve called for his life, “His blood be on us”
You’ll walk away free; no muss and no fuss.

But I felt no relief on sensing his end.
Tears streaked my face as they buffeted him.
In passing he said, “I love you my friend”,
He was sacrificed there, to atone for my sin!

I walked out a new man, for he took my place.
God showed me great favor, I knew His grace,
Had saved me from death, and holds me in life.
Barabbas is free now, His death made me live

Topic(s) of this poem: easter


Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is kind of a late Resurrection day offering. I don't think there is a historical account of the repentance of Barabbas; I guess I just can't see someone so obviously affected by the Savior's death, remaining unmoved.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 3, 2015


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