"I Thirst"
The crimson sky wore a dark veil, Hushing even the women in their birth pangs. There seen the array of wailing women, Sobbing, yet feeble and faint, For their last ray of hope that dwindling on the Cross. While the darkness seeped through the steep valleys, To the thatched huts and posh palaces alike. As the eerie silence engulfed the whole earth, The parched land longed beneath, Craving for a drop of living water. There erected, the Lord of the living streams, Flanked by the two, accused of theft. Opened His shattered lips and begged, “I thirst” …and so said the parched land beneath, “I thirst” …but only the sour vinegar was left. I thirst…the trembling voice resonated the horizons. The crimson gore thickened on the hard cross, While the scanty tunic tossed in the dark gale, Till the last drop paved its way down, Though the parched land refused to gulp, The murky drips that fell off the Cross. Still heard the feeble voile said…” I thirst...” The Lord or the Land?...