He Is Crucified By You, My Friend.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Morning chapel visits for the mass,
Prayers before and after every meal,
The reading of stories of saints at night,
His name was mentioned as a comfort.

During the month of Lent,
Purple was the choice of color,
The altars were decorated with candles,
That were made using wax and thread.

I used to see my dear Nuns crying at the church,
When he carried the cross on the shoulder with a hunch,
He fell down thrice drenched in sweat as the exchange,
For the love he has upon his disciples who ravage.

When the crown was adorned on his head,
When the vinegar was given in the bud,
When he talked to the two criminals on both sides,
I used to see my dear Nuns weeping in distress.

Seven stations to stop to remember the past,
Seven colors of rainbow visible at the top,
A rebel in a man, who talked the truth,
At last crucified and then resurrected from the tomb.