He went into the field
He went in
.
Surrounded by bulls
.
the fence said, “Do not enter” but they were made by the breath of his mouth
So he entered
.
Being trampled, jammed against a wall or gored by a bull is one of the most frequent causes of death
.
“Handle the bull with a staff and take no chances. The gentle bull, not the vicious one, most often kills or maims his keeper.”
.
Bulls.
not even
– just 4 little letters –
merely a syllable could undo
deteriorate
disintegrate them back
into dust…
.
He could have entered with a laugh
and at his laugh they would have fallen
the lightening could have cracked the horns from their heads
the flood of dissipation could have overtaken them
the earth could have swallowed them up
.
but he entered with tears
.
battered, his flesh the red cape
he entered the field
and his weapon was the cross
and his cry was a whispered prayer of release
and his heel,
his bloody
broken foot struck the head
as he hung
gored
.
blood and water
Striken
hung
his strength sapped away
his voice dried up
the words sticking to the roof of his mouth
the last pebble, unthrown
.
avoid going in the field at all costs
there is no bull that can be trusted
all bulls will be unpredictable at some time.
.
all bulls
young bulls
seemingly quiet bulls
they all gore
jealous
.
the rules
do not go into a field with a bull
.
muchless a herd
.
If you must
be aware
that a bull may see you as a threat
.
He was a threat
.
He was breaking open tombs
.
damn grave robber
.
If you absolutely have to go in the same corral with a bull, pack a weapon with you.
That weapon must be a thick stick that won’t break on impact.
Anything that you can carry in your hand to defend yourself with or make the bull think twice about attacking you
.
Move in the direction closest to safety
.
Make Him,
this gored man
carrying His cross
your refuge
.
If you get attacked, you get attacked, there’s nothing that can stop that bull from attacking .
.
He didnt play dead
He was dead
.
The devil lost interest
.
so He rose
.
He faced the bulls
He screamed giving the bull the hardest hit he possibly could
He screamed “It is finished”
defeated death
.
the scull
the scull
grinning broken scull
.
the gate warns “Do not enter”
But He
.
He will not be kept out
.
He enters my pasture
He bears my cross
His tattered flesh is the red cape
.
He is not afraid of my snorting
my pawing the earth for pleasure, or fame, or anger
.
He reads my sign “Do not enter”
But He doesn’t laugh
Or break down my doors
Or tie me down
.
He is the lamb in the thorn bush
caught by his hair
.
He is the provision Abraham promised his son God would provide
.
He wears the red cape,
and faces me unafraid
He doesnt laugh
He weeps
.
He weeps
He gathers up all my tears
strewn in the grass
and he hears all my prayers
burried seven layers deep
.
below the bull
below all my escapes
all my masks
all my de-fencive systems
…
He enters my pasture
Surrounded by all my bulls
and He lays His life down
.
He comes quickly to help me
He prepares a feast before me
His enemy
.
my hand is in the dish with him
I will proclaim what He has done.
I will be satisfied
.
From His hand
