Crucify Him! It's only a play. One by one, arms interlocked, the women follow
the Christ Jesus outside. My lunch is
heavy in my stomach. His makeup blood is
smeared on the rocks by the road and the Roman soldier screams in my face, “Will
you carry His cross?”
I have my own cross to carry.
Crucify Him! My mind is clouded and
suddenly I'm 15 and my mom has had enough of this life. There is no love left for anyone save for the
gaps in our breath and the hungry silence that feeds on our insecurities. He already took dad. What else can He take?
We walk closer to the Christ who is on
the ground. He's crying and his blood
catches in the sun like a fisherman's hook.
He looks at me - will I carry His cross?
Splintered and shattered on the ground beside him, it has become
impossible for him to carry.
Crucify Him!
My legs tremble and I am 6. “Lay right here”, they say. This is what I will know of love.
It is manly, it is heavy and it is
unapologetic. It is familial and I want
to be a man. My body is a mistake.
And Christ Jesus turns away. He cannot carry the cross. His hands are bloody and worn, his body is
limp and he is feint. Why have you
forsaken me? I run to Him and hold him
up. I'm not sure if he remembers that this
is a play because his entire weight is on my left shoulder. Why have you forsaken me?
The tears come in droves and I'm 19 and
there is no blood and I'm confused. I no
longer want to be me. I want it to go
away. The memories of my past eat me
alive reminding me that I am a mistake.
Then I am 20 and she's born through me. There is so much blood and they
take her to another room. She
lives.
Crucify Him! I can't stop crying. I'm
carrying Christ Jesus and they are screaming in my face. They are going to crucify Him. His blood is all over my hands, my clothes,
my hair, my face. It doesn't come off and
the Romans take Him from my grip.
They crucified Him. He hangs on the cross with no less breath in
Him than when we are born. Reborn. Born again.
One life given so that I could have new life in me.
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