STEEMCHURCH|A BELATED GOOD FRIDAY INTROSPECTION

But we are dust, you and I,
And we flutter as we must.
We may fly but it is true that we must fall.
-_{An Ending by Warpedpoetic}

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What do you feel on a day like Good Friday, as a Christian?

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Now that you have died and your blood drips from your wrists, from your crown, from your lips to your torso, to the cup of hyssop that gathers sin within its bitter bottom; now that your work is done, and the gates of hell have been seized and conquered, now that you traverse the burning heat of scorched souls screaming for mercy, for another opportunity to breathe again, to live again, do you feel the terror, the pain, the questions that plague me? Do you understand why I am what I am?

For I have sought your face before the priestly vestment laying absolution before me, a gift beyond me. I have sought you on my lips; communion, body and blood but I have failed again and again, to find you. I have sought you on my knees, trying to say the words, to plead, to offer something of me to you but it seems like I get silence all the time.

Why do I sleep so little and ponder death as if he were a sibling or a spouse? Why do my tears warm my cheek when I sleep and why does loneliness beset me? What do I fear? Death? Pfagh! Life? Maybe. Maybe I feel that I am more than I have shown but I do not know where the best parts of me lie. How can I become what I have not seen, touched, heard or felt?

I have nothing within me to offer; my excuses are ended and I am naked before you. I am empty of truth and my lips quiver at the futility of trying. I have become a thing, an object, a place. I have lost my name and my self fades in the heat.

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Will hell lay claim to me today? Will heaven give me another bright day? I am broken, but you understand all these don't you? They paint you beautiful and clean as if you never walked the dusty streets or conversed with men who stank of fish. They make your royalty their concern and forget you simplicity, your suffering and this, your death. But you understand what it means to feel pain, what it means to be rejected, to be alone, to be accused. You understand all these things, don't you?

Sometimes we forget that it is today, the battle line for my soul was drawn. Sometimes we forget that it was through this death, salvation came to the world. A death that cancelled all debts. Why did you do it? Was it just love? How can you love us? We are self centred, loud, disrespectful, faithless, greedy and broken but you love us still. Why?

Why do we not have this love? What stops me from loving enough for two? What stops me from going all the way for the ones I love? Why is it so hard to give my all to the people around me? Why am I like this?

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I am tired and low. I am sad you died but I am not much of a church person and I have failed again and again to be what you want me to be. I am glad that you sacrificed such a big thing to bring salvation to me. Am I free of pain, of tears, of fear? No I am not but it sure is better having you around from time to time. Thank you.

Peace,

©@warpedpoetic.

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Music: Unknown soundtrack of Power season one, episode 2.
Book: The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins.
Film: Powers, Season one, Episode 2.

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