THE LENTEN MEADOW
This Jesus died merely for your
sins? And just left it at that?
Like standing water never
turned to wine, now gone
sour, so sour even the frogs
and gnats have left it too. That?
For this, the holes in the hands
and wrist, the lance that pierced
the side, the mighty final cry.
'Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabacthani.'
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