day twenty-three moment

"though broadly embraced as a religious icon
the cross descends like a brooding storm
ominous
unsettling"
T. Rhodes

I wrestle with the wounds of Christ
until they become a balm
for my tormented heart
for the smoldering ruins of the holocaust
in my own soul

and can it be
that he
should die
for me

this man Jesus
on the cross

all around him life goes on
oblivious
some stop and stare
some curious
some disturbed
some entertained
yet all oblivious

but for one man and a few women
huddled in silent grief

Jesus
fevered
suffocating

the soldiers
laughing
joking
haggling over his clothes
even to the seamless piece

Jesus
silent

and then

Father forgive them

slips from his swollen lips

and God, the Father nods his head

and yet it is I who stand at his feet
with the soldiers
and the priests
in desperate need of compassion
for I too sealed his fate with my sins

and his voice descends like a gentle rain
on the desert of my heart
held so tenderly
in those nail pierced hands