April 21, 2000
On the edge of the cathedral wall,
above the Stations of the Cross,
the high priest motions, keep the
stain-glass windows open.
Then four white doves appeared
from the ceiling arch they flew.
Hammering down toward the wind eye
the outside light renewed.
The Lance pierced Christ's side.
A Crown of Thorns sacrificed,
so blood, water and wine, could scrub
the sacred mistakes of my life.
Oh bright emanation, from the fenestella,
the goodness of the world you appeared.
Crying shards of light into the fight,
the heart of the congregation feared.
Twinkling stardust, please bow and
welcome, the Sacred Angel's open hand.
The procession of the Cross forges
sorrow and love, all my heart can stand.
