Who Am I?

As He rode in triumph on a foal
I danced and sang like David!

At table I leaned against His breast
Received His precious gifts
The name of traitor I did bear
My willing choice, my crest.

In the garden I swore loyalty,
Prayed with Him, then slept.
He'd asked me only for my love
My gift...a kiss like a lance

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!
My silence just as loud!
One voice could sooth the pain,
But, no..
By thorns He is crowned!

Could I sooth Him with a cloth?
Would my heart be that strong?
Would I call from my well deserved cross?
I...
The bird without a song?

I pound the nails, I pierce his heart,
I've been the nails from the start.
Yet, at His feet He bids me stand
As blood rains on my face from side and hand!

His mother, my mother,
A gift He's given.
Her mantle my protection,
My comfort to live in.

I beg to hold Him in my arms,
To press my face to pain,
To touch His wounds with my heart
To lose in them my stain.

Soon my wings will take to flight
My song will fill the skies!
For a stone will silent weel tonight,
And death sing final cries!

I the bird will sing my song!
I the sun will shine!
I His bride will live for love!
I am His and He is mine!



image and poetry (c) Tricia of The Sacred Wounds of Jesus, 2000



web design c) Paul Buis, 2001