Good Friday (Seven Last Words)

Why call this Friday good? He who stood for all that’s right’s dying day on some wood? Could this injustice not be avoided, the execution certificate voided? His allocution said, “With this Death get’s exploited.” But what would be wimpier, out not with a bang but a whimper? A sombre timbre as his limbic system hangs limber, Him of sincere wisdom timbers. Number - as his numbers up, succumbs to Slumber as He sips this cup. His mind rewinds to when times were easier, before He proclaimed his reign as disease cure. The sign was hewed, ‘King of the Jews’ but could anything be more confused? He claimed to hold eternity’s password, that with certainty sin’s chains would be shattered. So, though it hurts, we must entertain his last words: Forgiveness … He didn’t just speak it He lived it; he gives this: Salvation. A vacation from damnations invocation. Lost is Satan’s grip, the cross a celebration of Relationship. Despite feeling like embossed Abandonment It handed random men a grand advancement. Yes, it was genuine Distress, Yet, it is the engine of being blessed. For in its shadow is a friendly family Reunion, How though? We planned to see it so soon - then - Not after two thousand years of communion! Why’d we have to take our lumps before seeing Triumph? Wise to keep assumptions and presumptions to a minimum, For our transgressions, that’s what he did with them. Our aggressions, repressions, oppressions, and sinful suggestions, are met in this simple lesson: When hate swallowed Christ’s great hallowed temple, it made the grave shallow, gave Death indigestion.