Zabenthung Dominic

The heavy load on your shoulder,
You carried along with hope.
Even as it crushed your bones,
You endured serenely and patiently,
Without a word or cry.

Thrice you fell beneath the heavy wood
And the dust of the earth embraced you,
Soaking in the blood that dripped,
Through your holy and precious wounds
That were mercilessly scourged.

Whipping you, they marched exultantly
Not knowing what or why they do,
Cruel were they, cruelty their weapon.
Laughing and mocking, they tortured you;
The soldiers, strong and mighty.

Painful must have been indeed
To tread the dreadful uphill path
And how sorrowful must your heart felt
At the moment when your gaze fell on your mother
The courageous woman, who courageously said yes.

And when finally you reached the hill,
‘The sacrificial spot’ as the prophets foretold,
They pierced your hands and feet
With nails sharp and long
So as to be immovable when erected high

There you hung on the cross
Your body soaked in blood, covered with wounds.
Writhing in pain, you forgave your offenders
Those that unjustly put there,
And with words of surrender gave up your spirit.