Lips crimson with the blood of sacrifice -
No they don’t understand
the legacy they are asking to carry
the call they claim to heed
Drinking from the cup of fulfillment
or dreadful of awesome obligation
the cup he chooses to raise to his lips
drinking of the blood of pardon
his own blood spilled, theirs too
if they take on the mantle, the onus
the yoke of service
becoming slaves to all, whipped
by the lash, crowned like him
in thorns, in mocking jeers
to be a servant to all,
martyrs to their faith
October 22, 2006 14:35
Mark 10:35-45
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,730+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
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