a poem in my pocket

La via dolorosa
the way of suffering
tell me, Who would
choose to suffer?

Plenty of suffering
here to go around:
pain, grief
rejection, loneliness
bullying, abuse
derision, disease, death.

None of us immune
all of us sinners
except the immutable Son of man.
He chose the via dolorosa
only he could
only he would
bear all our misery and loss
on rough wooden beams of
a Roman cross:
ugly method of torture
cruel means of execution
for common criminals.

What crime deserved piercing?
His uncommon love for us
pierced his magnanimous heart
spilled gracious agape love
to wash our dirt clean away…

His via dolorosa is
our way home to the Father,
who turned away from
our hideous sins
borne on the bleeding back
of his beloved son.

Shadows fell on his
forsaken and disfigured form
when he descended into hell
Praise God, now we will never be forsaken
we need not smell the sulphur or feel the heat.

Let us kiss the nail printed feet
of our Redeemer – Rescuer
who walked the cobbled streets
of the via dolorosa uphill to Calvary.