Saint Andrew's Cross
it was telling Peter
"There is some-Thing true here. real as sea and the salt under your eyes after dark has broken along the horizon and look! tell me, brother---"
it was that.
and questions were tugging ghosts:
the corner of my mind
was a banishment of sorts---
cobwebbed like the underground
rooms around Calvary when the
stones shook with the people above.
let them understand.
never of understanding.
this road is winding I who loved Him and
Peter who loved Him with another face as
dawn rose over
the Roman houses
the Roman spears sharpened.
deny Him. I shall weep then, Brother
There was that day when
Philip referred me as the higher authority
and here time is as still as the air in a
tomb when we shall become martyrs
there is no martyrdom left but
His Ascension and His face
among the waters where Peter and
I fashioned a living: there
is that proof among our faces.
this dust of Nations about me now as
the world is large and cold as stone floors.
that is the corner of my mind dank
and unused while when I touched
His face and saw inside my own longings
for worth were little more than nothing.
It was watching Peter and John
leave for the Garden knowing that
if anything were to happen it
would to those whom He loved most
and among the Twelve I would usher
the fishermen to the flock and wine
with salt crumbling on the tables.
it is this: my own Cross. I shall
bear it because as Peter dreaded the
crowing of the cock I will weep
at Death which is only waiting
for Life. We had been
fishing then and He had called:
it is that.