This is for Kylan's Spark! contest.
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Who is that man on the cross?
What has he done to you?
Why does he hang so silently?
When will this all be through?
There’s a crown on his head,
though it doesn’t sparkle with jewels.
The thorns are like fire,
and the pain overrules.
As I read the sign,
I’m no longer confused:
Jesus of Nazareth
The King of the Jews.
I politely nudge
a man standing from me across.
I ask him, “Why do you mock
the man on the cross?
What has he done to you?
Why does he hang so silently?
When will this all be through?”
The man turns away
and ignores my questions.
He walks through the crowd
and spews out suggestions.
“Let’s stone him ‘til he’s dead!
Let’s spear him in the head!
The man is a filthy liar.”
The cheers begin to swell
and the King lifts up his head.
I’ll never forget the words
which the King of Nazareth said:
“Forgive them, Father,
for they know not what they do.”
I could see the tears in his eyes,
and shortly after, his life was through.
