Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani

By

Thomas B. Wallace

I was there, when they drove you up that hill,

The big Cyrene carrying your cross piece like an ox, silent.

I watched you stumble and scrabble in the dirt,

your lash scoured back staining your robe, washing the ground.

I was there on that hill, standing by the stake as they nailed your crosspiece to it,

then nailed you to the crosspiece, not a whimper escaped

 your blistered lips.

The sign above your head,

In three languages, I could only read one,

Iusus Nazarene, Rex Iuden,

Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews,

rebel against Rome...

And, as they lifted you up, high before the crowd, I too

Laughed as they laughed,

Spat as they spat,

Shook my head and wondered how the Son of God,

Would not walk down from that awful death.

I was there on that hill, as you spoke incomprehensible words,

To the thieves we hung you by,

But the language of ridicule is universal,

the one who did not ridicule... I did not understand.

When noontide darkness fell upon us I too shook,

In fear, in awe.

What manner of man commands Apollo with his sorrow?

And, at the ninth hour, I too heard you cry,

"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,"

more incomprehensible sounds.

I asked a Hebrew standing there, “ What has he said?”

He replied, “he cries out to Elijah the prophet”, but another said,

“No, he cries,

“My God, My God why have you abandoned me?”

 And I wept for your pain, and loss.

Hot tears stung my beardless cheeks.

When you said, “ I thirst.”  I lifted up the hyssop of vinegar,

for it was all I had to slake your thirst,

 and watched you taste the wine,

but you did  not drink.

I  heard you utter a single, sweet phrase,

then breathe not again.

I wept openly, not for you,

but for myself and everyone who stood in his place upon that hill,

for I understood, finally,

what had been done here.

 We had spilled the innocent blood of the Son of God,

and we could not unspill it.

All I could do was weep,

and sorrow,

 and hope,

against all reason,

that it was not too late to atone...

I did not know... then... that you had done it for me...

I do now...