The Crucifixion, Pietro Lorenzetti, 1340s
Poem for Good Friday
I wondered at another’s strength,
begrudged her victory despite the cost,
and was ashamed of being not as strong.
I contemplated Jesus on the cross
while I forgot the resurrection
and the lessons: gratitude, compassion;
and I walked away from grace, ashamed
of clinging to my body and not
making of it such an offering.
I shunned companionship, ashamed
of wanting it—a friend, an intimate
would be too soft a pillow for a
head that ought to bear a crown
of thorns instead—and with such cruel
thoughts, in solitude, I clawed my spirit
even as I prayed for God to spare me
suffering and loss
Sister Alma Rose Has the Last Word 