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Kissing the cross,

O precious cross,

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
8 years 8 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.

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