Crucified Poem by Randy McClave

His hands were in chains
While mine were not,
Innocence and love is his claims
Rebellion and defiance he had sought.
An immigrant to our beautiful land
With no visible signs of work or income,
He walked with a radical band
When he asked others to follow, they'd come.
He spoke not from the mountain, but from a mound
Seems though he enjoys to incite,
He tells the wealthy they are not heaven bound
He will not give up his rebellious fight.
A king he says that he truly is
His subjects are the poor, the desolate, and the needy,
He shares all that is his
His followers say that he is caring and not greedy.
He has asked his father to forgive me
Even though I don't know or have ever met his dad,
He told me that someday him I will see
Then he asked me, please not to be bad.
By him, myself and many others are called sinners
And that we all have too much greed and pride,
In the end though he will be dead, and we will be the winners
On a cross tonight, he will be crucified.

Randy L. McClave