Blood and Water (a poem)

Life.
Breathing. Pulsing.

The Cross.
A funny thing.
Thousands of them, long ago.
Spread out across countries.
A symbol of death.
A symbol of power.
The Roman Empire.
For all the world to see.
The worst way to die.
Slowly.
In agony.
Suffocating.
Bleeding.
Outside, in the elements.
Yes, a symbol of death.
Nowadays it's a symbol of hope.
See? A funny thing.

Life.
Flowing. Beating.

Blood. Water.
Water is part of blood.
Without water, blood is dust.
Some don't like blood.
Why not? Without it your body dies.
Everyone needs it.
And water.
Without it your body dies.
When you drink water
Do you imagine nourishing your blood?
Do you imagine your heart filling,
Pumping blood through your body?

Life.
Echoing. Feeling.

Long ago,
a man died.
On a cross.
While dying,
While suffering,
Water built up inside him.
Around his heart.
Pericardial effusion
A scientist would say.
And after he died,
A Roman soldier took a spear,
And stabbed his heart.
Blood and water came out.

He said he would die.
He said he was the Water of Life.
He said he would bleed.
For us.
Because we are dying.
We have been from the very start.

Life.
He breathed again.
A new body.
Walked this world once more.

He lost water.
He lost blood.
But he never needed it.
Because He is Life.
Jesus.