From up here I can see it all,
why can’t they?
It was they that brought me here
to hang and suffer,
to act as their buffer
from here to the here after.
From up here I can see it all.
From up here I can see my friends cower,
they lower their eyes
and despise all who do me harm.
Something warm flows into mine;
blood as a testament,
an unrelenting reminder from my Father,
I search to find her. My Mother,
from up here I can see her,
sad and heart-broken and salvation
is one small token in response.
My “brother” John beside her,
comforting and consoling,
extolling praises on Him who had sent me.
She is his now. Here is your Mother.

From here I can see the soldiers and rabble
gambling over my cloak and robe.
No compassion is theirs, but they are still heirs
to this sacrifice in which they are complicit.
They proffer their rancid vinegar
to quench my thirst. I offer my blood,
the flowing water of eternal love.

From up here I can see the criminals who
suffer my same fate, it is too late for them.
One does not feel remorse and his course is clear.
The other will share a paradise straight from here.
I will assure you he will. And still
my blood will cleanse them both as well.
It is hard to tell who deserved this fate more.

From up here I can see the skies darken.
I hearken to my Father, “Eli, Eli”,
but his will I do. Thunder rumbles and
the rain tumbles from these black clouds.
I cry out loud as I am near death.
They see me as a man hanging from a tree,
but from up here, I can see the big picture.

© Walter J. Wojtanik

**I repost this every year at this time.


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