Poetry

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You ask so little for so much love.
A little devotion for all that blood.
Asking such, to gain so much more,
and yet we saw You were ignored.

A great big pick-up for when we fell,
You offer heaven to give up hell.
You gave Yourself in Your Gospel.
Why are we, then, so very hostile?

Infinite mercy for living repentance,
we get You. You get our sentence.
For the fact You healed the Rift,
You make Yourself our precious Gift.

We are all naked, with nothing to hide,
nothing to give, along with our pride.
You, who are all things, gave what was Yours;
the Word of God, who was not heard.

For our mourning You offer gladness;
holding out sanity for our madness.
Is it so much, Lord, to die with You
when You’re the One who’s always true?

© 7-7-09

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