Drops In The Dust Poem by William Kofoed

And as I walk behind the crowd
burden by the memory of my sins
red drops of mud did I see
of the dust in the blood he shed

and I wonder at the price
that he paid for my sin
each cut of the whip within his flesh
were they cut for my sin

which of the thorns in his flesh
were pressed there because of me
of my sins did he bleed
drops of blood for me shed

mocking crowd presses him on
driving to the place where he
nailed would be to wood of tree
from hammered spikes would he bleed

hearing I sick would be
pounding hammers driving through me
for my sins does he now pay
agony for that which I did

mocking soldiers did raise him up
pressing gall to his lips
in sick for horror did I watch
wishing I could set him free

streams of blood do float down
on the wood staining red
to the dust where I wait
waiting for the pain to end

to his father he does call
asking to forgive us
saying that his work is done
is and in life then does come

in the dark as I do wait
longing that my pain would end
knowing for my sins he paid
because of me his blood was shed

although darkness now this fill the sky
'tis nothing to the darkness within me
sorrowing for this things I've done
all the sins for which he has paid

and within a voice I heard
bringing me my sought for peace
I have died that you might live
my love for you will never end

and with hope I go my way
still sorrow within me lay
for my sins did he pay
with a love that will never end