Sorrowful Mystery - #3 - Crowning With Thorns Poem by Carmela Patterson

They have pulled me from the briars and are bringing me to the palace.

Someone is placing me with others like me into a circular wreath.

I wonder what we will adorn.

I see a beaten man being brought toward us, hands crudely tied behind His back, bloodied in ripped and stained clothing.

They lift us up and place us upon His head.

We are a crown of thorns.

Not do they gently place us there, but they press us so our tips cut through His head, brow, scalp and then they mock Him and spit upon Him.

I feel their spittle and I begin to feel the blood from His head dampen me.

His blood that dampens me drips toward his brow and down His face.

My place is the center front just above His mid brow and if I could, I would not press so hardly.

If I could pray, I would ask His Father to lift me off and out of this thorny crown of torture.

Now I know why I came to be at this point in time….
part of a thorny crown to adorn an Innocent Lamb.


© Mel Patterson,2004