Lightning tears the sky in half,
rain patters to ground.
A crowd begins to form
with
gloomy,
lifeless
expressions.
A man
upon the cross,
a crown of thorns
rests on his brow.
Soldiers
scoff
and
mock,
thinking
this
man isn't true.
Looking to heavens,
The Son of Man
asks for their forgiveness.
He says
It
finished
and breathes His last.
The lifeless body
sags in the nails.
The shock
wears off,
cries ring through the air
like an echo.
Forgiveness
has
paid,
through His blood,
His wounds,
His life.
