CRUCIFIX
When sun beats down on red scarred skin,
The tempest whip tears from within.
A a crown of thorn on heavy heads,
Turns stone and sand to righteous bread.
Upon a throne enlightened son,
His pain but weary, nor prayer become.
His soul to sit beside the throne,
Oh Lord and sin and gracious home.
With steel so sharp of hammered screams,
Christ’s essence felt, so holy in every man and God between.