In honor of National Poetry Month
The stench of
blood marked wood
rots the air
a crown of thorns
pierce
as moaning cries for mercy
catch the winds breath
a pure heart beats
in blazing sun
and breaks
to greet the maker
Today
You eat in a fancy restaurant
that you carefully critique
your purse is
stitched to perfection
on your lap
children dressed in fine linen
lap up cake
and sleep deeply in the afternoon
with bellies full
you fuss over laundry, bills
and pour over lists of wants
A whisper caresses your ear
as you greet the breeze of an opened window
BE STILL AND KNOW
and the image of the cross
blood
agony
purpose
spils over you
humbled
in the presence
of a miracle
that changed the earth
so long ago
you weep
and give thanks
in the still of the afternoon sun
