The Shroud
How white the linen
they laid out
at first.
How clean the water was
in its ewer,
waiting to be poured.
How fresh the towel.
Loving hands though,
soon turned the waters
ruby red
in a vain attempt
to erase some of the terrors of the day.
Sweet spice could not wholly
cover up the smell
of blood,
of pain,
of death,
of the cost of redemption.
Loving hands, though,
wrapped the linen snugly
over his prostrate form,
as if in final gesture,
a last farewell,
letting the whiteness of the sheet
turn what color it would,
Loving hands
never knowing
what image
their care
would leave behind.
Crosses
And calling the multitude together with his disciples, he said to them: If any man will follow me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel shall save it. Mark 8:34,35
There is that place
where heaven and earth come together,
and the world is renewed
in the pain and suffering
of one
who gave his all for love.
O Jesus,
teach me to bear my cross
with the same love.
When I stumble carrying it,
let me realize it is your hands
that help me stand back up,
readjust the weight,
and get ready to carry it again.
O Jesus,
for love of you,
teach me to love my cross,
and that road that brings me closer to you,
and at last,
when I stand before you,
may I find that it is not a cross that I am carrying,
but a victor's crown
to lay down at your feet
all for love.