Wounds

How many wounds must
I inflict,
before You
afflict me
with Your wounds?
You sear me with
Your hands and feet.
Your brow bleeds
onto me.
As You look down
from above.
I hate You.
You are killing me.
I know You must.
I know why.
I also know
that You love me.
And You're bleeding
into me.
So that I might
bleed too.

Into others,
just like me.

Why is this Your way?
Why must You suffer?
Why must You die?
Why must I?

I know.
You've already told me.
And all those before
and after me.

It's who You are.
It's what You do.
Thank You.