To Golgotha

by Treischel

"Then crucify him," Pilot said.
"I wash hands of his blood."
"Before the day's out he'll be dead,"
Saluting as he stood.
"May God forgive them," Jesus prayed
As on his shoulder, cross was laid,
Beginning then, His death parade,
'Gainst evil for the good.

The soldiers whipped him viciously.
"Move on," they ordered Him.
To kill him expeditiously
At Jewish public's whim.
The thorns lay heavy on His head.
Blood trickling, slowly, as He bled,
Into His burning eyes it led.
It made His vision dim.

This man condemned, the soldiers knew
Was innocent of sin.
It mattered not, he was a Jew,
And Fate's commands were in.
On cobbled road He bore His load.
The whole world's sins to Him bestowed,
To mitigate that debt we owed,
So healing could begin.

Centurions controlled the crowd
That gathered on the way,
As several cursed and shouted loud,
"Let's watch Him die today!"
Then Jesus stumbled under weight
Of cross and crowd's debate,
And then He slipped upon the grate,
Where refuse washed away.

A Roman guard saw he was weak,
And forced a passer-by
To aid the prisoner's physique,
And progress rectify.
Veronica then wiped His face.
Upon the cloth, blood left its trace,
As soon, the group resumed the pace,
Where pain and nails stood by.

Efficiently the Romans made,
Of wooden beams that crossed,
A platform, where condemned were laid,
Their garments stripped and tossed.
Then Jesus spread His arms out wide.
And then to elbows, ropes were tied,
As hammers to the nails applied,
More Precious Blood was lost.

Now soldiers in a different role,
Griped firm the cross and brace
As cross was lifted to the hole,
And dropped into its place
His mother and His friends were there.
As Christ was lifted in the air,
Their thoughts were turned to deep despair,
As sorrow filled the space.

That day they nailed and hung up three,
On hill called Golgotha.
They did their jobs proficiently,
To evil crowd's "Hurrah!"
One cursed Him, "Save yourself and us."
But one, "Remember me, Jesus."
He turned and then responded thus,
"With Me your soul I'll draw."

A sign was posted, "Jewish King,"
Or something on those lines.
The guards remembered everything
To advertise their crimes.
Beyond the pain where joints might burst,
The sun exposure was the worst.
Then Jesus cried out loud, "I thirst."
They fed Him bitter wine.

The Romans gambled for His clothes,
A token for their toil,
And boredom too, you might suppose.
"To victors go the spoils!"
Then as He hung there on that tree
He uttered out a painful plea,
"God, why have you forsaken Me!"
It made the crowd recoil.

The guards turned back to crowd control.
Their tasks they didn't shun.
To them the punishment they dole,
Is just a job well done.
On cross as pain was coming through,
Forgiveness made surprise debut,
Because "They know not what they do,"
Some hardened hearts were won.

"Let's hurry up and get this done,
Let not this action sour."
The Jews asked the Centurion.
"Our Sacred Sabath hour."

"It is finished." Did they hear it?
Whispering, He didn't fear it.
"To YOU, I commend my spirit."
As evil spirits cower.

Attention turned to darkened sky.
This crowd must be dispersed!
The soldiers rushed to help them die,
With spear His side was pierced.
When finally, to heaven's host,
As final sacrifice, foremost,
Christ Jesus then gave up His ghost.
Earth quaked as dark clouds burst.

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Recognized

Although not everything is in perfect sequence, or verbatim, I wanted to capture the essence of Christ's crucifixion. I used this format because it allows for a two part perspective. On the one hand I wanted to portray how, to the Romans, it was just another day at the office. To the general crowd, it was a hate spectacle, and to Christians it was profound.

Please note that where non-Christians were speaking about Christ, or the stanza reflected pagan thought, I did not capitalize references to Jesus in such words as He or Him. This reflects how they considered Him.

This poem is a Pantygynt.
This is a new form created by none other than our very own Pantygynt. The meter is iambic, either tetrameter or trimeter, and each stanza consists of three parts: a Quatrain of alternate rhyme (abab) with 8-6-8-6 meter, a Tercet rhyming ccc, with all tetrametric lines, and a single concluding trimetric line rhyming b. This grouping creates a Cycle.
My poem contained 12 Cycles.
I did have one Tercet that was trochaic tetrameter.

The picture is from Yahoo Images.

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Treischel has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

A Pantygynt Poem

A chapter in the book History and Myth

To Golgotha

by Treischel

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