The Color of Love (Easter)
Blind is the color of eyes in the crowd,
Hollow hosannas are crying out loud.
Lining both sides of Jerusalem’s street,
Palm branches waving are placed at his feet.
Make way for Jesus! Our savior — indeed!
Would not a king trade this mule for a steed?
Surely he comes now — his kingdom to claim,
Else all his wonders and signs are in vain.
Such is the color of hope.
Dim is the color of lamps burning bright,
Shadows are dancing to flickering light.
Thirteen young friends eat their supper alone,
One of them speaks — but it cuts to the bone.
Words of betrayal are strongly denied.
Words of confusion that faces can’t hide.
What does he mean he’ll be broken like bread?
Where is he going and what lies ahead?
Such is the color of doubt.
Pain is the color that tears into flesh,
Metal bits tied to the thongs of the lash.
Soldiers, in jest, make him richly adorned,
Giving a robe and a crown made of thorns.
Those who had cheered him a few days before,
Now shout his sentence too loud to ignore.
Driving long spikes through his hands and his feet,
Watching him die in the afternoon heat.
Such is the color of cruel.
Grace is the color that bleeds from his side,
There on the cross with his arms open wide.
Blood, sweat and tears in his eyes sting with pain.
Slowly his shoulders grow numb from their strain.
Gasping for air as the sun burns his face,
Asking for water — if only a trace.
Born for this moment — to breathe this last breath,
Dying to conquer the power of death.
Such is the color of love.