Behold the Wood of the Cross
I am the wood of the cross.
A lone, dead cross beam
I was chosen to be carried
On the scourged back of the
Savior of the World
Bruising, crushing, burying in the dirt,
Once, Twice, Three times
The Son of Man
Dead wood wrapped in dirt
“Remember man, you are dust and to dust you shall return”
Chosen again. Dragged to Calvary
A lifeless beam thrust upon the back of Simon of Cyrene
Yet embraced by Christ. My Christ
Who laid down his life
When he laid down on me.
Affixing himself to me
Three nails piercing his Sacred Flesh
Boring into dry, dead hardness
Three nails securing the perfect union of Life to death
Four nail holes wounding Him. Four
Two pierced hands, two pierced feet: Flowing blood, pumping Life.
Precious Blood soaking, saturating, permeating life-less me: The cross, His cross
Transfused, I live. Dead wood no more.
Eve, reborn, I bear His holes in my hands, His hands on Earth.
Blessed are my feet, for His blood,
Wine, flows from His feet,
Into the holes he gave me.
Blessed are my feet for they carry the Gospel of Life
To dead wood.
Darkness covers the Earth. It is finished
Dead Wood, anxious
Pierces his Sacred Heart swollen with love.
Water washes over me: The dirt-stained cross
Blood gushes forth drowning my every pore.
Falernian wine, courses through me!
Precious Blood pumps through my body!
He overflows my veins!
Inebriated with salvation, I shout for joy!
We raise the dead!
By Stacy Peterson
August 26, 2011