Last week I found a poem my son had written years ago. It was on the old kind of printer paper with the holes on each side. My heart nearly stopped because I had almost thrown away this stack of papers thinking of them as unimportant trash. Thankfully, I thought better of it because among the “trash” was a gem from my precious son. As I read the words my son had written, my eyes clouded with tears and I felt overwhelmed by the message.
Brandon had written a poem in the voice of a Roman guard, the one who had pierced Jesus’ side. Joy and sorrow clashed as they always do whenever I have received a gift from yesterday…a gift from beyond. Even though, I had read this poem years ago, I had forgotten it and placed it among my own poems.The paper had once been folded so I believe Brandon wrote the poem while he was in school and then brought it home and gave it to me. I wish I could remember.
I was struck with not only the fact that I had found a ‘new’ old poem as if it had never been read before but also the timing. Here we are in the Lenten season just a week before Easter. Since I do not believe in mere coincidences…I knew God had me to find it at just the perfect time…the perfect season…the perfect gift. Again, I am reminded that my son had a relationship with Jesus and thought deeply about his faith and his love for God. I am always grateful for the way God leads me through this sorrowful loss of my son. Just knowing that my son is experiencing Heaven and all the wonder of that kind of love and light is dare I say, incredulous. But he IS. He knows everything now. He knows Christ face to face. He has heard angelic choirs. He has met his great grandparents.
I think of Jesus’ mother Mary and the cruelty of her son’s death…to watch the torturous way he died. Only with the Father’s love and guidance could a mother endure. Below is the poem that I superimposed over the artwork of my son. I have added the poem below so it can be read easier. I hope is touches your heart as it has mine….one line moves me ….
“I realized His death would be my forever…” And so it is, Brandon, so it is. xoxomom
On The Hill
by Michael Brandon Heath
They asked me, “What do you think of this Christ?”
I paused. Then smiled. Still they asked.
I looked at my spear. Its razor sharp edges glistened with despair.
“He is a madman.” Then I looked away.
Another of my kind looked over at me.
As we guarded the country side. He winked as
the sound of the large tree dragged the ground.
I looked at the faces of the ones in protest.
The anger. The hostility that comes with crucifying
They spat and growled. Some cried and wailed.
I felt sick. I looked at my spear. Then——-
in that moment….as the nails embedded flesh….
I felt my heart’s confusion.
The God was hanging.
And as His eyes locked with mine, I drove my spear
into His side. I saw His blood. It ran down my staff….
and touched my hand.
Another guard turned to me and laughed.
I stepped back and thought about the life of this Christ.
The look in His eyes. The power of the moment.
And as He died, His lips moved. I thought I saw the words,
“I love you” as His mouth strained to speak.
It was then I stepped back and realized,
I realized His death would be my forever.
Again, they asked me, “What do you think of this Christ?”
I said nothing as the crowd wept.
I had killed a King.