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

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