He was no lamb!

This was a lion led to slaughter.

Not with bloody bleating,

rather,
with intention
and a muffled growl,
He submitted.

Even knowing His power,
aware of possibilities:
a shredded centurion;
a pharisee devoured;
even
never seeing light
beyond the far portals of His tomb,

still He sheathed His claws,
clamped shut His jaws,
surrendered to the Law,
cried to His Father King,
bowed down His mane crowned head.

And while His pride
lamented from their lair,
they watched Him
lay down His life
and die.

Then,
He sabbathed
’till the stone was rolled aside.

And,

since,

His Resurrections roar resounds
through the vast reaches of His creation.