Place of the Skull

By Tina Blackledge
2-11-2016

Desperate sobs wracked
his frame. Grief so sharp
it caused each breath
to be labored.

Thunder shook his Soul
demanding an answer.
Averting his eyes from
his heinous deed,
his thoughts could
find no anchor.

The skies opened and
the heavens wept.
Each raindrop
drilled straight
to his core.

Jagged stones ground
into his knees but he
did not notice.
The tearing of his
soul was far
too agonizing to think
of anything else.

The tempest inside him
would not quiet. He
had been wrong, very
wrong and he could
not fix his mistake.

The leather strapping
securing the spear head
ground into his well-calloused
hands due the fierceness
of his grip.

Crimson Life, from the man
he had pierced, traversed
the deadly blade.
Falling rain could not
erase the proof of his act.
Rivulets split into two streams
as it slide down the sharp
edge then onto the soldier’s arm.

“Forgive me…I did not know”,
uttered the solider.
Each word was forced
from his throat as if
it was a burning cactus.

Three days, he would tarry
at this place of death.
Each breath a shallow
attempt to fill his weary lungs.

Three days of agony.
Three days of utter despair.
Three days in Hell.

As the sun crested the hill
on the third day, the clouds
cleared and a fresh
wind blew the dust
from his nostrils.

There was a commotion
at the Nazarene’s tomb.
Someone had stolen
the body?

The shouts around him
seemed as if they were
a distant happening.
Taking the last ounce
of his strength, he forced
himself to his knees.

Sputtering mud he had
breathed in during the storm.
His lungs were afire,
his eyes caked with mucous
and mud.

Three days and nights
he had lain in
blood soaked mud
of the man he
had helped to
crucify.

Remembering his anguish,
his participation,
his great sin,
he began heaving,
vomiting his deadly deeds upon
the blood stained stones.

The soldier knew he had
chosen poorly.
He knew he had
participated in
snuffing out the
light of the world.
He knew he was doomed
for all eternity.

“My Son, get up,”
a strong voice commanded.
Instantly, the man’s breathing became
normal and all dread left his heart.
Turning, he saw the
Nazarene standing
before him.

“You are forgiven, my son.”
“Go and sin no more,
you did not extinguish the
light child. No, the light lives
in all of my children so
it can never be put out.”
“Go, shine my light
throughout the nations.
Many are lost, Go
and shine brightly”,
his savior lavished
love upon him healing
his torn soul.

Forgiveness waits
for the repentant
soul.
Be certain,
YOU are
Shining.