Randomness, Years 3 & 4
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Two Crosses

I have received a couple of responses to my query about what the Cross of Christ means to you Random Recipients. One of them I am featuring as my Random Poem (something I've forgotten to do for a while) for the month. It is called "My Cross and His", by Christy Arnold.



by Christy Arnold


A cushioned path marks the way to scarlet velvet, embossed;

A soft dim light illuminates a streamlined polished cross.

And as I rest and meditate, sweet music through the pipes,

My thoughts trangress to other worlds, to darker shades of night.

His path was crooked, dusty, long; 'twas trod in sandalled feet.

His rest was where they scourged His back; the rocky 'Skull' His seat.

His heavy cross was crude and rough, and all that reflected light

Were cold beads of sweat, as they trickled down the Man on trial that night.


He considered His mission-yet unfulfilled-and the price He was called to pay.

He looked at the hateful mocking eyes, and He offered His life that day.


And the cross' splinters pierced His back, but His gentle eyes forgave.

They spat on Him, and they cursed and shoved; earth's rebels He came to save.


And the music of death alone was heard-the hammers and nails and cries-

And the rhythm of life, as it flowed from the Man, faded and faded and died.


MY cross and His had grown worlds apart. The copper and wood would not blend.

Invasion of Light in the dimness of night so bright I could not comprehend.

And I claimed Him as mine-yes, even His cross: rugged and crude and rough.

Rejecting the gleam and the glitz, I chose death; the symbol just wasn't enough.



PS: I am grateful to those who have responded. I think it would be really cool to receive responses from people whose last name isn't Arnold (although if the other Arnolds wish to respond, go ahead).


PPS: I do acknowledge Lynne's response. Thanks, Lynne! You get a secret prize . . . 

2003, Christie Arnold