Vol.11,
No.62, 2008 THE CROSS by Kurt Nordstokke (BC)
Tangled grass
intertwined
With rusted memories
Of broken down houses
That used to be homes.
Forgotten farm tools
Lay lost in the past.
An old wooden cross propped
Up against a decaying church
No longer needed in this
Disposable world of
Instant gratification.
Prayers and dreams
Tossed aside,
Forgotten fodder in the
Chaff of the past.
Knees no longer bend
In reverence at the foot
Of an unused relic
Of an unused faith.
Casual glances by tourists
On their way to
Purchase ready made
Memories.
None pause to feel the power.
A small hand gently touches
The old worn cross.
The innocence of a child
Wonders who left something
So precious to decay alone.