and i only think of one thing.
how these whips hurt me.
what wretched things they are!
they dig into my flesh like hungry wolves and separate skin from muscle.
it is all i see.
it is all i smell.
it is all i taste.
and now i wish for death.
death sounds sweet to me compared to this.
i would rather taste death than blood.
my blood reminds me that my heart yet beats.
why does it continue to beat?
i wish it would stop.
at least the whipping stopped.
air leaves my lungs in a quick, sharp exodus.
wood and flesh meet in a hateful embrace.
splinters pierce my skin.
and skin weeps tears of blood.
is there any left?
slowly i trudge down the dirt road.
and dust and blood marry.
and dust and blood become one.
and i am one with the road.
sharp kicks force me to my feet.
whips persuade me onward.
finally i reach the hill.
what a sweet sight.
i push onward.
death motivates me.
i reach my destination and drop the wooden beam.
my wish is granted.
here i hang.
i have no more blood left.
i have spilled it all.
pride crowns me king and relief cries tears of joy at my feet.
i can feel the end is near.
i lift my eyes to heaven and declare “i did this for you.”
and i am too blind to see a man on a cross next me, already dead.
to God be glory, adoration, and all praise.
i am called simply to be obedient.
he died for me.
i need not die for me.
i need simply praise him.
revel in him.
and if sacrifice comes, so be it.
but until that day, i will rest in HIS sacrifice.
mine is but dust.
his was blood.