Raven's Wing Poetry » cross

Christian Gothic

ravenswingpoetry — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 23:50:44 +0000

This poem was inspired by the sight of a very awesome site, ChristianGoth.com. Enjoy.

-Nicole
———————————————————————————————–
Untold,
In my soul -
A thousand Hallelujahs.
I walk the catacombs
Where darkness roams
To find my way to the light,
Though I live at the edge of night,
Bearing torches in my heart
For the lonely
The forgotten
Begotten
Of God and Man.
Can you understand?
We live in an age
Where our page
Of history is written
To leave us smitten
With a label -
Unstable,
Wicked
Devil-worshipers -
When all we do is decorate
Our outer house
To match the feelings within.
Our Lord was not afraid of death.
Our Lord was not afraid of pain.
Our Lord was not afraid of melancholy.
So we walk in the parlor
Of the mournful,
Despite the scornful
Rejection of modern-day Pharisees,
Because we see
Our Lord Jesus
Is there
To bear
Sorrows upon his shoulders
And grief upon his back.

Written 4/15/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

Lent

ravenswingpoetry — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 22:10:10 +0000

Lent –
Our darkness.
We lent our darkness to the Lord
Long ago –

The darkness of mockery as taunting crowds cry,
Jeering and leering as they cry, “Prophesy!”
Then whip him, and strip him, and nail him on high.

This darkness in our collective mind film,
This darkness bubbling from our cistern,
This darkness, a black ink swallowing the overhead sky
As we lent him our mortality and he hung there to die.

He lent us not back revenge or sorrow –
But new life, new hope, and another tomorrow.

Written 3/18/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Gethsemane

ravenswingpoetry — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 20:09:57 +0000

I am posting this poem because Good Friday approaches. I tried to capture an image of Jesus, and what he might have been thinking and feeling in those final moments in Gethsemane before he was arrested. Presumptuous, perhaps, but I still tried.

-Nicole

————————————
“Gethsemane”

I wrestle the cross out of my heart
So I can carry it on my back
For you. For all of you.
This painful extrication caused the blood
To flow from my forehead and pool
On the ground before me.
For a brief moment, I wish for
Angels, for uninhibited beauty –
But the cup sits ever before me,
Demanding that I put my lips
To it and drink deeply – the thorns,
The curses, the bitterness, and
Carry them in my belly with a
Cross tied to my back.
Peter, draw not your sword. Don’t try
To stop this all from happening.
For our greatest victory is yet to come,
A victory of ages that will surely be won
Once I wrestle this cross out of my heart
And carry it on my back.

Stumble It!