The words hung heavy, thick with dust and dread,
“It is finished!” is all He said.
As He gave up the ghost, a final plea,
And bowed His head for all the world to see.

The heavy cross, a burden steeped in shame,
He bore for us, to cleanse us of our blame.
The thorns that pierced, the nails that tore His flesh,
A sacrifice offered, beyond all redress.

Yet some stood by, with eyes devoid of grace,
Looked on His suffering with such cold disgrace.
A flicker there, perhaps of morbid greed,
To see Jesus, the son of God, brought to bleed.

They missed the love, the boundless, saving might,
The dawning hope, that banished endless night.
They saw the King of kings brought low, a power lost,
Ignoring all He paid, such a terrible cost.

But in those words, a victory untold,
A story whispered, brave and fiercely bold.
“It is finished!” echoes, ever clear,
Redemption found, dispelling all doubt and fear.

© c.f. leach, 2025. Copyright protected. All rights reserved