XIII. Jesus Is Taken Down from the Cross

This morning, I hauled to the street
A heavy wooden pallet, so beat
The workmen had left it behind:
Its boards, rough-hewn and splintering
Against the asphalt. When I leaned
It on the dumpster, with some twine
And flattened cardboard boxes, too,
For the trash-man, a March gust blew
And overturned what I had built.
The hard wood clattered on the road
And split, exposed its secret load
Of bent and rusted nails, now spilled,
Scattered like seeds, like teeth and bones,
Awaiting tires, the feet of those
Too lost in song to watch their step.
One nail stared up from the cracked wood.
I plucked it out, just as they would
Who returned you to your mother’s lap.
Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

Advertisement

Don't miss the best from America

Sign up for our Newsletter to get the Jesuit perspective on news, faith and culture.

The latest from america

Dating Project
“For the Paulists part of the mission is supposed to be reaching out to the unchurched.” The best ways to do that are constantly shifting. These contemporary leaders of Paulist Productions look on that fluid landscape with optimism.
Jim McDermottFebruary 21, 2018
Children in the U.S. have a 70 percent greater chance of dying before adulthood than in comparable nations. Guns, car accidents and lack of access to health care are to blame.
Matthew LoftusFebruary 21, 2018
Race, class and gender are only the preludes to a personal identity bearing the marks of deliberation, struggle and choice.
John J. ConleyFebruary 21, 2018
What can the church and her Scriptures say to those who are broken?
Terrance KleinFebruary 21, 2018