Martha held the crucifix
Between forefinger and thumb;
Rubbed her small finger over
The dark brown wood of the cross;
Moved it along the pierced feet
And shins of the plaster Christ,
Paused at the flesh coloured knees.
How pained they seemed both touching
Beneath her finger's soft touch;
She moved her finger along
The thighs of the Crucified;
Over the battered body
Which has seen far better days,
Touched the toughened arms outstretched
With her tender finger's feel;
Then stopped and stared at the head
Pierced hard with a plaster crown
Of thorns; the eyes looking up
Pleadingly into her own
As if she had some power
To release Him from His cross;
She kissed the Crucified's head
With her own soft human lips;
Sensed the pain and agony
Of the living and the dead.




Comments: 21
Lovely poem.
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