Stripes

By: Monica Taylor

The crystals fall upon my face,
The salty liquid gems flow faster.
I'm trembling as I hold the razor.
I want to watch my blood flow with the liquid,
Becoming a pink stream traveling to the floor.
I want to free myself of the pain,
Let the emotions drain like the water.
I pull the object to my arm,
Underneath the shower of wetness,
And cry.
I imagine the release,
The blood,
And the life within my flowing freely.
But suddenly,
Another image flashes.
It's not my imagination,
But a memory.
Deep lashes slashed in His back,
Blood like mine pouring down.
A cry to God,
"Father, forgive them!”
And then a death.
A sacrifice.
An act of love,
So that I may live.
Realization hits and the blade drops to the floor.
By His stripes I am healed,
Not my own.

Isaiah 53:5