I turn to look at Jesus as we swing our legs over the shallow bridge
As He throws some food to the ducks
I notice He has arms like mine.
I follow the map of scars and see they finish somewhere under His clothes
I take a deep breathe as I ponder
How we got our marks
Pain!
Not pain from the physical tearing apart of skin although that, too!
But pain as we both felt the barbs and thorns of cruel words, questions, challenges to prove ourselves
Tears fall from my eyes like liquid glass
And each drop I see, wounds Him again
The upsetting realisation that I
I, a lowly person, slashes His skin
With each injury my heart feels
It brings tears of blood to His beautifully perfect yet scarred body!
This isn’t right.
This isn’t supposed to be how it works
Why should He suffer from my injustice,
My sin, my heartache?
He turns to me and smiles with a gentle wrenching tenderness
His eyes water my soul deep in its depths
Like nothing I’ve ever known
Like a pleasant soothing balm
His deep brown eyes reach out and grasp the pain inside of me
Pulling it, stretching it but not breaking it apart as I gasp in abject horror
Then like a blanket on a cold wintery day
He wraps Himself in it, in MY suffering
My shocked disbelief as I watch Him slowly dissolves as I finally realise what is happening
The darkness that encompassed me
No longer weighs me to the ground
I see Jesus wears it staunchly, yet the black gradually suffocates with the light that He is and it disappears quickly
I trace over His map of faded white lines with my finger and wonder if they’re all mine
It tells our story as awareness hits me;
Each time I used my blade He was next to me and I was piercing Him
He nods in understanding but not in condemnation
His marked arms reach around me and He pulls me in so closeI see his scars next to mine, similar but different
And with relief I know my hurts have not destroyed Him
Instead He has saved me with every drop that fell and I lean into Him enjoying the peace it brings as we swing our legs
The mellow breeze creates waves and we continue to feed the ducks
About the Creator
Linda Bromley
Just one of many creative outlets for me has been books! My whole life I’ve loved them and it’s so easy to make the jump to writing.
Recently I completed a poetry challenge and now, looking for more excuses to write, I’ve found myself here!
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