Well, well - day 6, and you thought I forgot because it's after 10PM, didn't ya? HA! Fooled you!
Today, for those who somehow might not be aware, is Good Friday, or, the day that Christianity celebrates the sacrifice we believe Jesus made for us by accepting death on a cross. It's a solemn occasion, a day for prayer and reflection. It sets my mind to thinking, usually, and today is no exception. One of the things many of us Catholics do, however, is what we call the Veneration of the Cross. It may seem foolish to many, but there is something about it that makes it much more concrete when you get to touch the wood of a cross. It's tangible, it forms a real, physical interaction, and for that, it can be quite beautiful. So tonight's poem is somewhat related to that experience today.
I know it isn't the actual thing,
a representation only.
The wood looks used, I can see where someone drilled into it once.
At least I can see they used a half-lap joint.
Not bad.
They put some effort into it.
Did it properly.
Good. It deserves proper treatment.
We stand in line, everyone gets a chance,
at last, my turn.
I've been considering - how best to treat this?
Genuflect, lean, kiss the wood.
It feels rough on my lips,
a million tiny splinters all poking into me.
it leaves a faint impression that disappears in moments,
except for on my mind and heart.
A simple thing, two pieces of wood
that impact so many people.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
1 comment:
Very nice. A very brief moment, but I like the approach you take - that of someone familiar with wood working, as you are. The juxtaposition between ordinary and unordinary works well. This is also about participation, rather then dwelling pointedly on any larger issues. It would be good to see a poem devoted to the whole tridium in this vein.
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