The Lamb

Humble lamb, mystic icon
On the altar of ransom
Sacred emblem of innocence
Sacrifice of redemption.
I saw your ordeal from afar
And I could not get closer
To the ritual of your stabbing
I had to wait for the pain
To break loose from your heart
For your soul to ascend
Far from your frightened eyes.
Your broken heart shoring up
The shaky alibis of this age.
You have been born in spring
When the Lord rises from dead
Ready for the crucial sacrifice.
Now you cannot return anymore
In gentleness of your warm fur
Last sieved lamb’s snow of white pelts.
If you cannot descend from above,
From where only saints dwell
I ask you, lamb, tell us if you know
Where is the boundary of oblivion
Separating the living from departed.
I am missing your true innocence.
Your joyous play on spring fields
Breathing warmly over the snow.
You have returned to the realm
Of the sacrificed ones, our martyrs
You inherited in your blood this fate
The destiny of the purest of beings.
In your silence was hidden
All the mysteries of creation.
Who has chosen you as an offering
Knew that only souls of most gentle
Most merciful and purest at heart
Can be crucified for God’s glory.