His body hung upon the cross
Like shattered glass
Like broken dreams
A brittle thing
A fragile flower
Crushed.
His blood congealed the dusty soil
Like summer showers
Like scattered shards
A fallen ruin
A splintered limb
Dashed.
Yet ghastly beauty gasps as hidden sun
Finds gleaming rubies to reflect and to redeem
Or so it seems to me
But short the space of days to sift the bits
Of tesserae and raise them from the grave
And in the light of dawn discern a face.
We eat the glass and drink the shards Like broken bread Like offered wine A burning heart An opened eye— Alive.
Listen to Mr. Tweedie's original musical setting.
James A. Tweedie is a recently retired pastor, poet and composer living in Long Beach, Washington. He likes to walk on the beach with his wife. He has written and self-published four novels and a collection of short stories. He has several hundred unpublished poems tucked away in drawers.