By Sharon Curtis
At dawn, I open up my eyes
And see it lying there
It all comes flooding back to me
With my blood stained robe right there.
How can the sun rise today?
How can it lift its head?
For the Son of Righteousness ~
My Son ~ is dead.
“Abba, I cry out to You
In searing pain of heart pierced through
Where is the promise the angel spoke
Were these words not true?”
Another day is dawning
The sun comes up once more
Why must it ever taunt me ~
The blood stained robe I wore.
I want to wash it out
The blood stains O so grim
But I cannot bear to do it
They are all I have left of Him.
Tomorrow I must go
And anoint my precious Son
Laden with sweet spices
And let goodbyes be done.
About the Author:
I live in the Northern Territory of Australia. I have 4 adult children. My husband is a mango farmer. I have been a Christian since I was 11 years old and just love to write poems about my Saviour.