Winona's House

To Love is To  Hold... The  God With Pierced Hands

Poem by Winona Ortega

He chose to have His hands pierced

Just so the penalty won’t become mine

The same hands that demanded Him heaven

For every good I have done

I dared Him, “We are even!”

But the odds are overrun

 

So He chose to have His hands pierced

Just so the reward would become mine

The same hands that condemned Him to hell

For every evil I have done

I charged others, “Rebel!”

But to darkness, I succumbed

 

Yet He chose to have His hands pierced

“Just so? Why did You have Your hands pierced,” I ask

“For the same hands that’ve shunned 

You and Your commands?”

    “I get to hold yours,” says Jesus

    The God with pierced hands

 

“You chose to have Your hands pierced?

Just so You could hold mine?

The same hands that crossed You?”

    “For nothing you’ve done could make Me

    Love you less and turn me blue

    With pierced hands and a red body

    I get to have you.”

 

I choose the God who had His hands pierced

He who bled just to hold mine

The same hands He unblemished

From my sins that’ve come undone

    He says, “It is finished.”

My life’s just begun