Written in the Wounds

A poem for Good Friday

Written in the wounds of His hands

Are the names of those who tortured Him.

‘Father, forgive them’ He cries,

‘For they know not what they are doing!’

Written in the wound at His side

Is the offer of Life that He brings.

‘Surely this man was the Son of God,’

Even the centurion sees.

Written in the wounds on His feet

Are the stories of where He has been.

With the broken, the hungry, the hurting,

The lame; they all found rest in Him.

Written in the wounds on His head

Are the thoughts He has toward us.

Plans for peace, and not for war;

Plans He thought worth dying for.