Poem: “Weapon”



The cross is deep, a dagger,
So firmly fixed is evil,
Who can pull it out, extract
This weapon of the devil?

A relic in no reliquary,
Heirloom of the race,
It stands upright as humans do
But has no human face

And what became of Jesus’ cross
When Christ was taken down?
It served for many others
Anointed with their wounds

Silent in the darkness
It offers up the wood
To be the shepherd’s staff of Christ
In love’s desuetude

A weapon He alone can grip
A scabbard He can wear,
Only God can heal with such
A weapon of despair

June 9, 2011


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