passio
Riding into Hierosolyma,
The populace bidding greetings with Areca.
“Save, we pray!”
Prophecy fulfilled.
“Hosanna in the highest,”
The bystanders cry.
Departing Bethany,
A devoid syconium is cursed.
Arriving back in Moriah,
The Temple is deterged of its greed.
The barren tree is seen again.
Prophecy is spoken on Mount Olive.
The traitor sides with the Sanhedrin,
For the ancient price of a Semitic slave.
Kephas and Yochanan are sent ahead,
The Pesach feast must be prepared.
The Bread has been broken,
The Wine has been drunk.
In remembrance of Him,
The Eucharist has been instituted for you.
Later, there is agony,
The Savior’s benediction,
“Not as I will, but as you will.”
Kneeling in the Garden,
“Your will be done.”
Before even the third hour,
The solely perfect One: beaten and mocked.
He whose done no wrong,
Lugged the Cross and bore its weight.
A fourth and fifth sword pierces his Mothers heart.
Redemptive torture.
The Repentant one is granted Paradise.
Our Lady holds His lifeless body.
A sixth sword.
His body, buried by the ninth hour.
Enshrouded in spiced linens of Myrrh and aloes,
The Roman guards keep watch.
Miriam—the first to see Adonai risen.
The Lamb of God had paid your ransom,
By His blood are you washed.
Emma Mancini is a student writer and poet based in Virginia. She is currently working on her
debut novel. For updates visit authoremmamancini.wordpress.com