Martyr by Gary Bertnick



Price willingly paid so long ago
Known early by Job and Abraham
Cup of death a bitter drink,
Cross experienced in part
As a share in eternal reality
Selflessness always a ready door
A gate gladly followed through.
How truly great the cost
How pure Messiah’s heart
The blood that flows
Down, deeply upon the newest reborn heart.
Body, soul and spirit,
A man, a woman as a little bird in a snare
Blinding death encloses
Eyes unable to see, ears to hear,
But the snare is broken
The small bird flies free
Sense of well-being and good purpose soar on the wing
Suddenly come to life
Humanity made able to bask in purest enlightenment
As darkness and all fear flee.
Lies and fear no longer rule this one,
The body destined to die
As the Baptist, as Paul, as Peter and John
As so many others gone before, death to self already experienced;
Whether sooner or later
A sword, a bullet, inverted cross
Starvation or worse,
Brief moments fully tasted,
Sips of the most bitter cup!
Many led naked in chains with nameless others into a forgotten forest
Tortured, abused and martyred by dark forces,
Left as filth and earthly waste;
Holy angels lift the spirits and souls away
Even before bodies fall as red and yellow or brown leaves to the ground,
Down to the common ground from which they came.

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