Can you see him, through
history, a specter,
a soul yet wandering, between
heaven and hell
over and over he must have
washed his hands
trying to remove the stain,
the tattoo of innocent blood
blood he allowed to be
spilt, blood of a king
given for his people, those
who knew his name
whose oil was kept full, who
knew more than anything else
they needed his gift, his
boundless mercy, his ultimate sacrifice
His wife knew too, something
was wrong, something very wrong
to shed this pure, clean
blood, untainted by human sin
a human life lived godly,
that should have been proof enough
especially to those
vacillating, questioning twelve, disciples,
How could they go through
three years of teaching, of learning,
of watching him, his
actions, his compassion, his humanness,
his divinity, his pure love,
his sinlessness, and not knowing
He was God; how could Pilate
let the rabble dictate the death
of an innocent life, a man
that did not threaten Rome
to sacrifice, to hang on the
cross, instead of Barrabas
Washing his hands, no that
didn’t truly clear his stain
that he must have carried,
he must carry still, yet, unfinished
a soul yet wandering,
between heaven and hell
like the Master knew, and
wrote so well
----
Edited March 26, 2013
“Washing His Hands – v2”
March 26, 2013
Matthew 27:17b
Matthew 27:15-26
Sanctuary for Lent for
2013
by Robert V. Dodd
scripture and meditation
for March 26, 2013
read March 26, 2013
&
earlier poem
December 2, 2006 20:02
“Washing His Hands
Matt 27:1-26; Luke 23:1-25
and The Master and
Margarita
by Mikhail Bulgakov
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A.
Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011,
2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray
Foss for usage. See all 26,900+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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