To a Little Twelfth Century Figure of the Crucified Christ: The Cross Missing
Where is your cross, poor homeless One? I see
The piteous stretching of your hands and feet,
This is the gesture, somber and complete,
In bloodless bronze, of your long agony;
And where the nails that held you to the tree?
Here are the faint stigmata, cruel-sweet,
And in my heart there sounds the hammer's beat:
O Son of God, be crucified in me!
Come, walk my Calvary of womanhood,
Taste the wild hyssop of my hidden tear,
Wear my gay crown and know my laughing spear,
Call Magdalene in purple to my rood:
Hang, Christ that died for love, upon my pain,
Between pale thieves, the dreams that dream in vain!
The piteous stretching of your hands and feet,
This is the gesture, somber and complete,
In bloodless bronze, of your long agony;
And where the nails that held you to the tree?
Here are the faint stigmata, cruel-sweet,
And in my heart there sounds the hammer's beat:
O Son of God, be crucified in me!
Come, walk my Calvary of womanhood,
Taste the wild hyssop of my hidden tear,
Wear my gay crown and know my laughing spear,
Call Magdalene in purple to my rood:
Hang, Christ that died for love, upon my pain,
Between pale thieves, the dreams that dream in vain!
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