The soldiers jeer.
Harsh, Loud, Grating.
Their hearts and voices are as hard,
As their breastplates and helmets shining.
The whip cracks.
The soldier's silent eyes watch, enjoying
The pain He is feeling, the agony, the tears,
The sadness of His heart crying.
The hammer pounds.
Cold, insensitive. A tool of death and sorrow.
While He is silent, giving away his blood,
Pure and sweet, to freely flow.
The sad and painful sounds are not
Sad and painful.
They are beautiful
Notes of liberty.
This is the solemn scale of security.
Refuge through refusal.
The notes that dance from the cold, hard, tools of rejection
Sing to my ear the song of acceptance.