Crucifix
I saw a crucifix today; An antique power pole Arrayed with white Fluttering feedsack scrap. Blown by some miracle of wind? Or placed By hands that know too well The piercing pain? No figure on this tree Illumined by The pale blue headlights of the passing cars. Is that because it waits for me? For us? To take our crosses and be crucified with Christ? Right here beside the road, Stripped of crude sacking. Not in the sanctity of church Where loving hands paint garments at our waists To save our shame. But in the dark, the cold, the hard spring rain Shivering, alone, As He'd have felt. Embrace the cross As death becomes New life.
