Britny Virginia
1.
A Christmas Special
bullets blood red
chased down,
mangled flesh
lighting the way
as anxious sweat bursts pores pale white
step after step
jagged
exhausted
breaths uneasy flowing
troubled
unwelcomed
step after step
i heard Jesus walking
stones bedded the Saviour’s feet
while bystanders fired spit in hateful misled scorn
scorn i desired,
and still do
footprints led the way
as precious blood lined up
for sinners to take heed
burdensome weight carried upon shattered bones
naked,
He hung naked
barebacked and exposed
as tendons spilled from man’s frame
crows pecked
scavenging for food amongst Holy ground
His eyes on the sparrow
induced love long-suffering
– i’m called to mirror
a flawed wretch but You still laid it down for us
how did Your tears fall?
a single shred? Coupled pour?
Or agonised groans bawling?
either way
You came
and led the way
forsook glory for relationship
and damnation you accepted
for the wretched few
so for this may I celebrate You
again and again
may i celebrate You
2.
A Christmas Special
baby's hair matted in blood
coated in tissue
wails siren the small barn
causing shepherds and princes to leap alike
there was unity now
through The BLOOD
The BLOOD
covenant that sealed me anew,
afresh
ridding me of the penalty of death
and eternal separation from glory
thank You,
thank You.
3.
A Christmas Special
jingle bells
jingle bells
and a 100lb plank
4.
A Christmas Special
outside the city gate
the city’s scum adorned pathways like scarecrows
feeding scoffers appetite
appeasing the lie that somehow they lived more righteously than those
forgetting their self-righteousness
deserved death too
perhaps even more
worms and maggots nestled under rotting flesh dead yet still alive
painful pants satisfied
desperate pleading lungs
organs slowly malfunctioning under distress thoughtful words echoed in the air
“man, this is your mother”
“woman, this is your son”
may i never again take for granted
the ease of an exhale.
5.
A Christmas Special
taunts were the anthem of the day
forgetting just days before
they lifted one voice
‘Hosanna, Hosanna!’
the King of kings riding on an unbranded colt
now blood clots surged through His veins
and asphyxiation became an all-consuming terror
He’d probably sing with me one day
but vocal cords too clogged
permitted Him not
just as He orchestrated
why, you ask?
declaring, so we would sing Merry Christmas
to the King;
seated at the right hand of Glory!