Michael P. Johnson

Gold Star - 7,374 Points (7th Nov.1943 / New Silksworth / Sunderland Co/Durham England)

My Name Is Barabbas - Poem by Michael P. Johnson

No longer do I need to run
I’m free of every debt
Though still there’s much I’ve said and done
Of which I so regret

Its not a lie its not a game
I’m right in mind and well
Barabbas is my blessed name
My story now I tell

I tried to run I tried to hide
Amidst the maddening throng
Upon a tree I should have died
Because of things done wrong

Instead of dying someone came
Suffering in my stead
He bore my pain He took my shame
Upon His faultless head

I can’t describe my wicked deeds
And look you in the face
But like a garden full of weeds
My life was one disgrace

Suffice to say that I was caught
I cried and held my breath
Before the judge lay my report
That sentenced me to death

Afraid to die afraid of hell
Shaking my head in woe
I screamed and squirmed inside my cell
With no place left to go

How could I think, what was to say?
No help could I pursue?
Except to kneel and God to pray
To save me from my due

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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 28, 2008



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