If the Drops Could Speak

by Alex Reece
(Fort Wayne, IN)

Imagine if each blood drop could tell how it was lost,
“I was bled at the scourging,” “I was shed at the cross.”
They would tell us the story of how they forgave us,
They would tell of their Master, who selflessly saved us,
They would utter their story, shaking with fear,
Of how they were shed, along with His tears,

His tears would tell us of why they were cried,
“I came from the garden,” “I came when He died.”
They would tell us of the only thing he didn’t comprehend:
Why we wouldn’t accept Him, why we wouldn’t defend.
I think of the things the drops could say about Him,
Why they were shed: For the people around Him.