Kissing the cross,
O precious cross,
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it blisters the lips
like the hot coal
held to Isaiah.
O holy cross,
there is a body on it
with a deep wound
the wound dealt by the world
to the hopes of God.
O beautiful God
unrecognizable
who could not let us be
in our blind man’s bluff
our cruel humors
O spent flesh
that took on ours,
O banked fire
beyond extinguishing,
brand me.
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James Ross
5 years 11 months ago
I loved this. It added an extra dimension to my personal Easter, and I shared this with friends in faith. I love poetry and I love the church- so this was a happy convergence for me. Thank you.
