Yeshua stood above me,
Hand out
To me drunk in the gutter begging for a
Handout
His sword hilt handled in a tilt downward
Sharpness in the soil
“Get up brother”.
His face smudged with char, and
Of course the wounds on his arms
His eyes the sight of every sunrise ever made
Ink on His quadriceps name above all kings
And a wind started up, running the smoke into rings
“How long have you been down?
Get up and walk”
I lifted my hand against shame’s gravity
knowing the weight of sin was being pulled off that had me
pinned
7 times a fall
7 more up
He kissed me on my matted hair, and set me on a rock
Bound up my wounds like a little lamb
And brought me out of shock
“You fought well, stay with Me, we press on”
Weight on feet I stumbled forward,
he held me a/cross his shoulders
And as I found my footing
he moved onward
and I saw his back
Riddled with darts and javelin heads broken at the shafts
His self a shield like a wing over my fragile frame (ps 91)
and the blood on my armor was His.
By Nathaniel Cooley
Loose interpretation:
Weakness and sin cause wreckage. Repeatedly and habitually failing.
Jesus, Yeshua, covers us with His pinions. Wings. Psalm 91.
Kindness of a conquering King to a warrior who sloppily struggles.
He takes the bullets and cheers us on. His blood spilled on us
restores us, undeservedly.
May we be stronger and live without sin.
In Jesus' name.
Hail Christ.
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