The wind lashes Golgotha.
It lifts dust over a world that can no longer touch me. It bites into my flesh like a starving animal. The wounds burn. Blood drips slowly, like sand from a torn hourglass. My vision blurs, but from up here, I still glimpse the crowd: cold strangers, some curious, others indifferent.
I remember the days when I moved among them like a shadow. I fought to claim for myself what no one ever gave me: safety, love, a place in this world.
I was a survivor.
The first time I had to fend for myself, my hands were too small to carry anything.
I stayed silent when told to shut up, clenched my teeth when I wanted to cry, and kept walking when all I wanted was to stop.
I carved my way through life with a knife between my teeth, stealing what I could: a glance of recognition, a moment of peace, a chance.
And yet—here I am.
On the cross. At the end of the road.
What have I left behind?
Who will remember me now?
And how?
All the running, all the fighting, all the striving to prove myself… has it all led here, to this moment?
Beside me, another Man hangs in silence.
I’ve heard whispers about Him, but only now do I truly see.
He is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
Stretched on the same cross, pierced by the same nails.
Did He also live a life of exile?
Did He fight to be seen by people who refused to value Him?
He does not look defeated.
His eyes are clear—as if they see beyond death itself.
Beyond Him, another thief laughs—another cross, more nails.
His mouth spills only bitterness and mockery:
“If You are who You say You are, get down from there! Save Yourself. And save us too!”
A part of me wants to scream the same thing.
It’s not fair to die like this.
I deserve more from life.
I look at Him again.
And for the first time—I stop fighting.
I stop demanding what I think I’m owed.
I stop biting into life with desperation.
I simply ask, out loud:
— Will You remember me?
He turns His head and looks straight into my soul.
There is no judgment in His eyes. No sentence.
Only gentleness. And a love that pierces deeper than the nails in my hands.
— Today, you will be with Me.
The beauty in His eyes hurts more than the world’s violence ever did.
Here, where my flesh fails, my soul awakens.
And for the first time, I let go.
No more fighting. No more running.
I don’t know what Paradise is.
I’ve never had a place to call mine.
But if it’s with Him, then that’s enough.
For the first time, I am truly seen.
Without a mask.
Without the sin wrapped around my tired body like a burial shroud.
It’s just me.
And Him.
And a promise.
I close my eyes. Not to escape, but to be born.
I surrender to a love that makes no sense, yet somehow holds me together.
I didn’t find salvation in the fight, but in surrender.
Not in strength, but in the gentleness of a single “today.”
And so, at last, I am free.