Crowned


There I was
on my knees trembling,
wondering
how You knew
I had always wanted a crown.

There You were
next to me kneeling,
glistening,
with tears of joy in Your eyes,
holding the crown in Your hands.

The crown was
beyond anything
I had forged in my dreams.
You wanted nothing more
than to place it on my head,

But I would not let you.

I was
fixated on the wounds in Your palms
knowing
that I was the reason why
they were there.

The crown was
just like the one You were
wearing,
a crown
of peace, love, and freedom.

But my vision was
blurred with tears of shame
knowing
that I was the reason why
You had worn a very different crown.

My sin was
what had sharpened the thorns that
pierced
Your divine brow
and shed Your innocent blood.

I was
the one who mocked You, who
called
You “King” with scorn,
refused to call You mine.

But there You were
holding the crown,
wanting
more than anything
to call me Yours.

And I did not understand it.

I became
overwhelmed by my confusion,
crying
so hard that
the world started to shatter.

But then You were
The only one that was not
breaking
so I leaned into Your chest
and sobbed.

As I was
crying, You gently
placed
the crown on my head,
held me and whispered,

“This moment was worth dying for.”

Kyra Dawkins CC’20 is majoring in Medicine, Literature, and Society and Neuroscience.