Saffron Honey Hugs
For behold, blood cometh from every pore,
so great shall be his anguish for the wickedness
and the abominations of his people.
He hugs me.
And oh, I’m home.
He drapes me around his body. I spread myself across his shoulder, shying off of his elbow.
I’m a crimson red: symbolic.
Similar to the colour of his blood. Sticky strings scrape his chafed skin creating streaks of ribbon
Leeching sacred drops of saffron honey,
His skin still gleams white
White and righteous
Ton-heavy with sorrow.
His sclera rolls back
Syrian Christ Thorns dig- dig and dig
Finding spaces in the flesh of his scalp
A scream, a yell, a cry for help
Yet the sole answer he receives
Comes suffocated with leather,
Their endless tails haul metal spheres in silt
The crack of a whip
The sound of brutality
Voice of humiliation
Each step: the equivalent to balls of lead
He stares at the sky, soggy with tears
He knows His plan.
Knows His truth
His sternum vibrates against his dermis,
Shaking me too,
And though I wrinkle
He never seizes me with disgust.
His eyes swell with empathy: adoration
Towards me, for me
Sagging in his arms,
He carries me,
As he carries your sins
Bleeding from every pore
Living your sorrows and afflictions
Each of his shoulders serving each of your legs
They call it
The Atonement of Jesus Christ
Amrutha Obulasetty is a freshman at Utah State University, majoring in Psychology and English with an emphasis in Creative Writing, and she is a recently published author for the University magazine, Sink Hollow. Amrutha lives in Chandler, Arizona and is a proud member of the Utah State Speech and Debate team, the Leadership Society of Arizona, and a grateful volunteer for ASSERT and Teen Lifeline.
The Ekphrastic Review
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