Posted by: jevcat | April 1, 2010

Quiet Crucifixion

For Good Friday, I share a poem I wrote a while back, which had its seeds in a Good Friday sermon that became something of a legend among those of us who heard it and in the pain of watching a loved one’s illness:

It was a quiet crucifixion –

no Roman soldiers,

no jeering crowds.

Just white-robed figures

of whose arcane rites

we were not

initiates.

No more rusty nails –

we’ve grown more subtle with the years –

but sharp, still sharp,

and piercing still.

And we who stand and watch still weep.

©Janet E. Vetter

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Responses

  1. I don’t think I’ve seen this described that way before. You actually have cleared this up for me. Thank you!

    • I’m glad if it helped. It was something I felt deeply when I wrote it. You’re welcome, and thank you.


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