By Willem Taute on Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Category: Willem Taute

My Red Hill

I’m walking, crawling rather
      Broken on my knees
             In the valley of the
      shadow of death,
      Nothing is left, nothing keeps
me going.
                  I’m ready
                                   TO DIE.

The corner of my eye catches the Lighthouse light that snatches
      my attention
      Gone.
      Then back again.
      Gone.

The Lighthouse Light-
Shining from behind a hill
      A Hill I know so very well
      A Hill covered in the blood, sweat, tears
      of work.
      Covered in the blood of Him.

He that came that one day and
on that Hill He shed is life,
BLOOD.

On His knees He stood, broken,
tears streaming paths in the dust on His torn face
And He begged me.
Begged me!               drink my blood, and
       & nbsp;      eat my flesh
 
              Oh the pain
              Yet so much gain

The Hill.  
              That Hill.
                            RED HILL.

Was it? It must have been.
Yes, Red Hill.
He died on Red Hill.                           He DIED.

And now, now I drag myself.
Only the Lighthouse Light creating enough energy in me.
Drawing me.
I need to see.
What happened after that day?
That day He...

I slide across the rock and see
In front of me
          The Lighthouse Light bright and shining
shining, shining

The light penetrating darkness and revealing.... Gasp!
Revealing beauty.
 The utmost
                 Indescribable                                      Glorious
BEAUTY.

And the red is penetrated by green.
Life springing forth
              And Him!
              O yes, He’s there
              He’s on the Hill
But I thought He.... didn& rsquo;t He?
He died I thought.
Yet there He is, laughing, sitting
Life following in His footsteps
Music on His speech
Love in His touch.

               He is here. On Red Hill.
               He has risen.

Transformation on the Hill
              Beauty instead of pain
             Joy instead of tears
             Love instead of hate

Red Hill, my Red Hill.
             I thought I had lost you
             I though I had lost myself

But you, you gave me vision
I thought He died, but He has risen
Here on this Hill. Red Hill.

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