For Good Friday - Poem by Felix Montjoie
This morning burned soft in my waking eyes-
Like a low, cool light, almost blue.
I open up a window to see the world wake with me;
and thought how, if I had been Jesus, I might have liked to die on a day like this.
We carry our crosses up mountains with us,
We crucify our fellow man.
Some are crucified for many years,
and never see a day like this.
And does Jesus die with them?
Every time, on every day, someone with a cross over his heart;
he'll have his passion too.
I'm ready to carry my cross,
I'm ready to live year by year,
I'm ready to make my hour, by the hour,
I'm ready for my good Friday.
Topic(s) of this poem: christian, death, good friday, holiday, life, poem
Form: Prose Poem
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