Good Friday Poem by james watkin
Good Friday
Innocence slapped, was love's work at hand.
Innocence, unearthly white
In garment of sin, stripped bodily
Of its ingrained taint wrung quite
Was that love, unapproachable, seen
Back onto itself meting out
Of its mercy. Onto that figure
That's ours! The world throughout!
Thrown upon a beam, and savaged
Had inflicted a healing!
That shed love, blood's warmth re-vitalized.
Its vein's ego-repealing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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12/21/2025 4:53:48 PM # 1.0.0
