adventures in dysthymia

Friday, February 19, 2016

Cross, a poem

Cross

In every child I see the second coming,
god made man again. His cross awaits.

We each climb Calvary, eyes averted
from this destiny. It stands against

our sunsets, stark, a shadow across the world.
Stride forward, Brother. Do not hesitate,

my Sister. It is a moment's work to lay
ourselves down. The beat of the hammer only

echoes the beat of the heart and both
will cease in time. Pray there is no third day.

Stephen Brooke ©2016

An exercise in gloom! :)

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