“Till All the Blood was Spent” – A Passover Poem

During this Easter season at Kosmosdale Baptist Church, we have been unfolding the plagues upon Egypt which culminate in the death of the firstborn son. But if families heeded the words of Moses, their firstborn sons didn’t have to die.

Passover smear above door

“Till All the Blood was Spent”
Written 3/23/18

Months it took to build the house
before which now he stood,
with sun above and shining on
the brick and stone and wood.

The door was closed with everyone
inside until the morn—
his love of fifteen years and,
at her side, their firstborn.

A boy! They praised the God who heard
their fervent prayers for life
inside the womb of her who thought
she was a barren wife.

At last a father, yet afraid
more now than e’er before,
he stood outside beneath the sun,
before his only door.

Had he heard the prophet right,
who spoke of death to fall
upon the firstborn sons that night,
no matter great or small?

With one hand he held the basin
full of blood he shed,
and with his other held the branch
now high above his head.

He moved his arm from side to side,
and smeared above the door
the blood until the branch was dry,
and then he dipped for more.

This time he started high and left
and drug his arm down slow,
as blood began to drip upon
his hand and feet below.

One more dip and one more side,
so high and right he went
and pulled his hand toward the ground
till all the blood was spent.

Stepping back, he saw the door
and thought of him he cherished,
his son—now covered by the blood—
and then said, “It is finished.”

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