I Thirst

Your skin is brittle yet oozing. 
Even breath hurts as You bleed out 
And with each slower heartbeat    silent thunder. 
You of adam’s clay made perfect— 
Your body slowly returns 
to the garden needing Your rain on us the unjust. 
Your final agonized cry 
was the gathered totality of loss 
and the infinite cup holding every agony. 
Then, when those You loved 
lowered You down into their embrace— 
we shared in Your reclaiming. 
You uttered I thirst 
out of the thirst You had lived. 
Now I thirst lives 
in Your fire and wine at Your rising.