with every swing of the hammer
that drove the nails,
into His feet, into His hands,
He felt...
the hunger of starving children,
the pain of those sick,
the lost agony of the homeless,
the shame of the beaten...
the repentence of the fallen,
the last hope of the downtrodden.
the dignity of the poor,
the torment of those in chains...
take Him off of that cross!
it's our turn to be human.
time to be who we are,
or to be nothing at all...
who's next?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And I even hear now that it wasn't a cross after all. Adeline