Here is one of my Poems a Meditation on the Cross written a couple of yours ago for a similar event.
Meditation on the
Cross
An unfamiliar sound, the wailing of women
the smell of heat and dust,
of animals and fear.
The narrow streets are crowded
for this is Jerusalem
at festival.
But now they stand, heads bowed
as men all doomed by fate,
by crime, by deeds as yet untold
pass by, dragging the wood,
that spar of pain and despair
that will end all joy, all warmth, all life forever
for this is Crucifixion day.
A voice sobs through the crowd,
echoes of agony as if she feels
the sword piercing, piercing
as once was promised,in this place.
Ah Simeon, long dead, did you foresee this day,
did you but glimpse the grief, that will not wash away,
for this is crucifixion day.
And now they reach the place, the place where he will die.
No choosing now to bear the Father’s will, this is reality,
an agonising leave taking, a long farewell,
while birds, and laughter, sunlight, breeze and life goes
on,
its noise and bustle muffling the screams as hands and feet
are skewed to the tree, as bodies lifted up struggle to
breathe,
to live despite it all, till all hope fades and death
becomes the
ally and the friend, a place of peace, the quiet of the tomb
when all will fade away for evermore,
for this is crucifixion day.
