Photograph of the field at Antietam, American Civil War. Confederate dead by a fence at the Hagerstown Turnpike, looking north; the Turnpike is to the right of the fence, the dirt lane on the left leads to the farm of David Miller.
More Blood, Not Less
An explosion thunders over
the streets of Boston, smoke fills
the air, and humankind scatters as
fear and confusion settle on the streets.
Some are down and some run, a few
are dead, and a few have had their legs or hands
snapped off suddenly. Hot glass and metal
pierce the air, rip flesh and spatter blood, sever
marrow from the bone, while the ground shakes.
He saw this scene—the Lord of all—Jesus, when
He hung on tree and agonized in pain. His flesh
ripped and torn, blood and bodily fluids
filling his lung and suffocating his lifeline. He felt
every bullet and bomb, every hot, putrid breath of
evil intent, every act of anarchy against
His Father’s heart out poured. He finished
His life with that scene of terror tearing
His mind apart. And then Jesus cried, “It is
finished.” Because it was. Finished.
All the injustice and unjust suffering rolled into one heart
that broke in two in the blind crushing, in the love.
Jesus died for the bruises of the Boston Marathon
apoiled on the bloodied streets that run wide
and smooth and long in Massachusetts. He felt
the pain, the rush of wasted, twisted victory. He tasted
the gloating and the hovering… Jesus swallowed the
bitterest gall of the darkest evil.
America’s wounds will heal crooked now,
clean on top and running yellow, pus
infection deep within if we do not pray for
mercy, forgiveness, and compassion.
I pray my countrymen will cry out to God in this time
of terror, crisis. Human strength and the power
to rise again in the brassy will of earthly resolve
will fail us, will bring us down, will end us.
Retaliation will twist us as evil as the night that
wars against the day to darken and deafen our nation dumb.
There is no hope and
no joy in the streams of healing that can flow freely,
there is no cleaning up the mess,
no going forward to a new, fresh place
without Jesus and His power to cancel the
wages of all grave and inglorious debts with just one
amnesiac drop of righteous blood. We need a river of Calvary’s
ointment now to cover the stain. Let’s beg forgiveness of
our own sins first, America.
We need more blood, not less.
©Bonnie Saul Wilks
all right reserved