I was torn,
I didn’t want him, either.
He’d been a thorn in my side his entire life.
I should have simply left him there,
Like everyone else did.
Over & done,
That was that.
I had won.
†††
But a thorn in his crown
was not enough,
not for me.
He would pay
for what he & his family had done,
they would suffer
& all would pay the price.
They would suffer
as I have suffered.
†††
So I wrested him
from where he rested,
& created for him a special tomb
from which he would never rest.
“You’re no better than me
or any of these others,
myriads whose cries
God has ignored,”
I spat in his face.
He simply stared
as though my words meant nothing,
though clearly they did.
Something mattered.
If not my words,
then what?
†††
I spat again,
words of accusation,
ridicule,
abuse.
I struck him,
whipped him,
deprived him of sleep,
food,
water,
taunted him with drink
just beyond his reach.
†††
“You’re no different,
no better than them,
all those whom God has forsaken,
abandoned to this place,”
I said to him spitefully.
With venom in my throat,
I pointed to them,
his gaze following
the haggard tip
of my bony finger.
Then with that digit
I took his chin
& turned him back.
bitterly rasping,
“You’re no different
or better
than me.
You will have
things your way
or not at all.”
†††
His gaze,
first toem,
then as though right through me,
as though I did not know
what I was doing….
†††
Them?
They are what matters to you?
†††
At that moment
I knew how to make him pay…,
make them all pay.
I turned up the heat—
make them suffer
& he will suffer,
he will renounce it all,
everything he has done,
believed
& held dear.
He will beg my forgiveness
& turn to me
for redemption.
if only but
to save them.
†††
Yet the more I turned the screws,
the more he looked to them
& they to him—
compassion in his eyes,
balm for their souls—
& before three days had passed,
I lost them all,
rescued as one
from my grasp.
†††
That instinct,
I should have trusted my gut
& left him there to rot,
forgotten & alone.
Heaven didn’t want him,
God’s back had been turned,
I didn’t want him,
he turned my stomach
& made me burn,
broken,
despised,
abandoned
& alone.
†††
i was the one
who stole his body from the tomb
& i'm glad.
†††
i’m glad that
my hatred & spite
drove me to this,
that gut instinct
could not prevent me,
for as i sit
here in the darkness,
evanescing & powerless,
remembering his gaze,
i find in this harrowing
something i have not known
from the day i first was cast down….
†††
Hope.
†††
†††
My Good Friday offering. Blessings, one & all.
About the Creator
Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock
Retired Ordained Elder in The United Methodist Church having served for a total of 30 years in Missouri, South Dakota & Kansas.
Born in Watertown, SD on 9/26/1959. Married to Sandra Jellison-Knock on 1/24/1986. One son, Keenan, deceased.
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Comments (13)
PHENOMENAL!👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾
Wow. Randy this is 'next-levels' something else! You surprise me, my friend. Truly!
This is blistering stuff! Goosebumps.
very nice
Very vividly written, Randy. Gave me chills.
This was so deep. Leaves one in total awe of all that is rotten in the world. Should we be concerned that God is so silent in the face of our stupidity. Is something coming that we feel in the dystopian winds. Ominous and chilling, yet still we hope.
Randy, your piece is so gritty but moving, so informative and introspective. Bravo! 👏
This was so intense and extremely powerful! Blessings for you too Randy!
👏👏👏 Take a bow, Pastor Randy. This was very immersive and full of mixed emotions for me. Happy Easter! 💐✨
Passion of Christ poem , nicely done
Raw and powerful Randy.
This Saturday it’s important to remember that Sunday’s on the way.
This is very intense and guttural, well written nonetheless