Holy Week Poem

On that cross,

My sins nailed through your hands and feet,

Pinning you down.

Unable to move, to speak.

The weight of my transgressions held you there-

Too much for you to overcome.

All of my guilt, fears, weaknesses, shame sat upon your crowned head-

Pushing in the thorns,

It was for my pain that you bled.

black and white cemetery christ church
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Published by raelynpracht

Writer. Reader. Lifetime Learner. Follower of Christ.

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