O Lamb,
there is no blood
that is not yours,

no guilt passed on,
and passed on again,
that is not ours.

Centurions, we stand bloodied
over the steaming carcass
and stammer.

Your uncomplaining blood
washes us
of doing this again.

The angel of death,
who would use us to wound,
passes over.

Through the Red Sea of your tears
we go with your blessing,
on washed, forgiven feet.

Holy One, Lord of Tenderness,
slaughtered and ever beseeching,
spare us from our deathfulness.

Forgiving One,
unreturning our violence,
set us free.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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