Good Friday Poem by Amy Bengtson

It was not good for the tree
Whose only guilt was to grow tall,
To grow strong, To grow straight.

It was not good for the soldier
Whose duty was already stained red
And now whose heart was black.

It was not good for the women
Who stood at his feet and felt the breath
As it left him for the last time.

It was not good for the crowd
whose voices were hoarse from cheering
and crying with passion.

It was not good for the man
Who was much more than just a man
today, everyday to some.

It was not good to the Father
Who wanted to reach out and catch him
When he fell limp.

But for me? It was all good.
It was nothing but good for me.