A Lenten Poem

The following poem was submitted by Holly McGarvey. It was written by her 14 year old niece, and is told by the earth below the cross during the crucifixion.
Given Blood

Quietly I sat atop my hill
When suddenly, the roads began to fill.
The silence was so harshly shattered
As a man who looked so terribly battered,
Carried a splintered tree upon his back
And fell upon His treacherous track.
A guard stepped forward and cracked his whip
On the skin of His back which could not but rip.
Staggering to His feet, He carried on and on,
Even though His strength declined, almost gone.
I watched in horror as he fell twice again
And out from the crowd, the guards pulled a man.
They pushed him out onto the road
And for Him, he carried the load.
Feet, feet, I felt climbing my slope
And all that I could do was hope,
That the blood of this spectacular man would no
more spill,
And that His fate would not come at the top of my
hill.
But He and two thieves were stripped of their
clothes
While the people gathered here to watch in rows.
The guards threw the cross down on me with hate.
Oh how could this man have carried such weight?
I was crushed beneath the splintered wood
While above me, He silently stood.
Awaiting His death,
He took a deep breath.
As they laid Him upon the tree,
I felt His pain inside of me.
And then, beyond anything I could know,
Came the shock of that merciless blow
As I heard the clank of a hammer on nails
Amid His cries and painful wails.
Then suddenly, the weight was shifted on me.
The cross was raised up so everyone could see.
As the base of the cross was pounded into my
surface
I could feel His hung body, plan for escape,
worthless.
He begged the Father above to forgive
All of the people who did not want him to live.
This man was different from any other I’ve ever
known of
He wished to forgive these wretched people and
show them true love.
At the request of a thief to His right,
He forgave him, and then all of the light
Was dimmed and the noon sky was clouded
As the land became shadowed and shrouded.
Another agonizing cry broke out
And I knew then beyond any doubt
That this was to be the end of this man when he said
He was going into the Father’s hands and
bowed His head.
A guard came up and pulled out his lance
And stabbed Him just in case there was any
chance
That His heart may still have been going.
And from His gash, blood and water came flowing.
Down, down it fell towards me like a water fall
There was no stopping it, I felt it all
The cold mixture of His given blood
And water that turned my surface to mud.
Is this what I’d be remembered for?
I asked myself as His family and friends bore
His limp body towards His lifeless tomb
Would I be remembered as a place of gloom
Where the King of the Jews was
crucified and killed,
Where His divine blood had been so cruelly
spilled?
They tore down His cross and carried it away.
I saw it all, all that happened that day.
I sat there and watched, then turned into stained
mud.
I was there, for I was the dirt that soaked up His
blood.

Written by:
Katie Torrence
Age 14
Huntington Beach, California