The Thorn Crown Poem by Liam ó Comáin

It caught my eye
on a sunny Lent morning
nestling above a picture
of the Sacred Heart;
outside a slight wind blew
and the observed cherry
bore light pink blossoms.

It was a crown of thorns
carefully formed using
the tension of the wood,
an assumed replica of
the crown placed on
the head of Jesus
prior to his Crucifixion.

A model to reflect upon
and my thoughts caused
a shiver down my spine;
I who knew the anguish
of seasonal depression,
yet nothing in comparison
to the potential of those thorns.

What mystery lies in providence:
that a plant thorn would be an
instrument of torture in a
mock display; presently recalled
by a ring of thorn wood near to
a rush fashioned Brigid's Cross.