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Mighty One, The
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By Louis Gander
Other Poems by Louis Gander


The Mighty One
 

I sit and stare at water there,

beyond the palm where lake is calm

and try to write the words I'm thinking of.

But often times my words lack rhymes

as fingers shake and pencils break

while making sense of Christ's most precious love.

 

I don't know why I often cry

at such a price of sacrifice.

Though innocent, the Man of God obeyed.

With no remorse, He stayed the course

and took the tip of wicked whip,

then carried cross because He was betrayed.

 

He didn't quit.  He carried it

without restraint, without complaint,

up rugged path to hill where all would be.

And without fail, He took a nail -

another one.  They still weren't done...

And then was raised for all the world to see.

 

The pain was such it mattered much

and time was short for His escort -

those angels waiting anxiously to aid.

For all along, ten thousand strong 

were in His care and waiting there.

But it would be His call was never made.

 

From cross He heard another's word -

another soul that He made whole.

It mattered not, the next cross he was from.

So it would be that grace was free

if we believe and always cleave

to Him who knows our hearts and wants to come.

 

So much unsaid with Jesus dead.

Though buried deep, they couldn't keep

our Savior from yet one more miracle.

So off His toes, He then arose

despite our sin to live again -

above the clouds.  This wasn't typical.

 

I pictured sky in my mind's eye

and watched in awe at what I saw

and still envision how it all could be.

As I look back at all the flack

that Jesus took in God's Good Book

I just can't understand His love for me.

 

My stare is blank at water's bank,

beyond the fog I see a bog

as I forget all that I'm thinking of.

Now as before I tremble more.

In any case, I now erase

my empty words of Christ's most precious love.

 

My words are wrong.  They don't belong.

My ev'ry word just seems absurd!

They don't do justice for all He has done!

Thoughts disappear.  I shed a tear -

and say a prayer that isn't fair -

from little me - to God, the Mighty One.

 

©2018 louis gander

 


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Submitted: Saturday, October 20, 2018

Last Updated: Sunday, October 21, 2018

About the Poet
Born in Richland Center, Wisconsin in 1954. It's the poem's message that matters- not the poet.


Other Poems by Louis Gander

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