I am repeating some posts from 2013 this week:
At the Cross
In the deep dark early this morning,
skies so black and veiled, we saw little clearly,
and felt the dark fall on each of us.
I was there at the cross,
overcome with grief and guilt and heart aching.
I touched the cross,
thinking I might be slapped down,
and felt the slivers and rough wood, and
felt then moist blood.
My heart ached in a new way.
Suddenly, I am lifted away.
(c) Tom Bolton, 5 March 2013, Milwaukee