UNDER  THE  CROSS

I stand under the cross

wishing I could hear

Jesus’ words to Mary and John

addressed to me,

“Woman, this is your son.”

and “This is your Mother.”

I stand under the cross,

wishing I could say

what the centurion said,

“Truly this was the Son of God.”

I stand under the cross

watching the scene between

the Good Thief and the Bad,

but their voices about saving oneself

and being saved and robbing

paradise at the last minute

aren’t my scene either.

I stand under the cross wishing I could say,

“I am thirsty!” wishing my faith

was thirstier, but it’s not.

I stand under the cross in the dark

seeing the spit and the blood

on the ground,

wondering down deep if the echo

of curses in the air still being thrown at Jesus

are my inner sounds. I hope not. No. Never.

I stand under the cross and hear,

“Father forgive them because

they don’t know what they are doing.”

I stand under the cross saying and praying

“That’s me. You know me!

Into your hands O God,

I hand over my spirit. Amen.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2011