Good Friday

In honor of Good Friday, I'm going to post a poem. Enjoy, and remember the pain, suffering and love that this day represents.
(i actually wrote this as a concrete poem in the form of a cross, but after spending over two hours today trying to put it on here in the form of a cross, I gave up. So use your imagination for now:)


The grain of the wood grinds against his bones
He winces in pain as another splinter embeds itself
in his already torn and ragged flesh.
He sways, tilting his head upward
bringing into his blurry, stinging vision the outline of a hill.
“This will be impossible” muttered the man on the other side of the beam.
But he was a man of impossibility.
He staggered forward, his footsteps quick and panicked
as he tried to steady himself.
He sucked in deeply and heaved forward,
placing one foot squarely in front of him.
Another two steps left him gasping for breath.
He swayed back and forth in place
as he tried to wipe the blood and sweat from his eyes,
succeeding only in wiping some sweat away
but replenishing the streaks of deep, red blood around his eyes and in his eyebrows.
He tried to rehoist the beam of wood on his back
with the help of the man on the other side.
It landed with a soft thud between his shoulder and neck
drawing forth gasps of breath.
With determination he started to lift his foot again
Unable to take another step up the hill,
He stammered, shifted off balance
then was dragged backward by the unbearable weight of the cross.
The man on the other side of the beam called to a few nearby for help.
“This is impossible” the man said to two men who helped them to their feet.
But he stood, and started again with determination
for he was a man of impossibility.
He had known it would come.
He had come for this reason.
The time had come.
He was bearing the cross.
He was bearing the sins of the world.