The Outburst

Your hatred hurt deep within

Blistering words charged with judgment

Pierced the soul with crucifixion

To a death you desire.


Your list of accusations

Blasted above peak-hour roar,

Naming sins you claim were mine

Yet might have been your own.


Onlookers watched in silence

Entertained by unleashed anger

Bewildered that someone meant for love

Could expose such unbridled wrath.


A call for righteousness

Made anger attempt assassination

With wounding words

Damaging speaker and listeners.


But let me hear the diatribe.

Your words may hold a truth

Which received without self-condemnation

Might somehow reconcile.


I thirst, you said, dried up by rage

So why not myrrh with wine?

But a cup of cold water

Is given in another's name.


Blood drips from three nails

And thorns press a furrowed brow

As forgiveness flows

And eternal love heals.


Be reconciled, comes a whisper

From a dying Christ.

I take your sins

The death is mine, the life is yours.


March 1991