Passion Week

Martyrdom and suicide wear the same clothes
The blood is different though
When touching the skin
One feels warm, the other cold

I was offered two cups
One was bitter for her
The other sweet for me
I begged for the sweet but drank the bitter

Melancholy and joy play the same chords
The music is different though
When hearing the songs
One brings healing, the other is for the radio

I was offered two crowns
One was made of thorns
The other pure gold
I chose both and was given neither

Tragedy and hope write the same words
The meaning is different though
When reading the story
One ends, the other goes on for eternity

I was offered two paths
One was wide enough for both of us
The other straight and narrow
To walk the way of love, we have to carry each other

—

23 April 2019
3:00 PM