The cross at the side of the house

i.

The cross at the side of the house 

stood straight against the madness within 

a sentinel of promise against the curse   

of Adam stumbling o'er rocks, hiding from God.

Bursts of mea culpas seeped through its walls 

where the mother stood, child 'pon her hip 

awaiting conversions of practice to practice 

lest hope be buried 'neath the Blood of the Lamb.

From the empty shell of a man grown old 

questions arise struggling for answers 

like wasted seed among the weeds on the road 

trampled by hurts and poverty's foot.

Like propped and stunted dwarfs 

their dreams dangle on tomorrow's limbs 

awkward and misshapen visions of must.

ii.

The friars vested in virgin faces 

process in green feathers to the altar of God 

celebrating Life in the Theater of Thanks 

dancing with those with a cross in their yard 

and lift up the shadows encircling them 

as the Spirit kisses Bread to nourish the poor.

*The Notice of Always

Within the circle of now

the movement ripples

quietly, to and fro,

washing the past

of pointlessness

cleansing the future

of fear

waking me to notice

always

what is

here.

-Jerry Schroeder, Cap.