April 6, 2007

Signs of the Cross

We see the Cross
That crowns the hill,
The blood-stained sand—
It haunts us still.

Our thoughts recoil,
Our shame prevails,
As eyes reflect
The glint of nails.

Our stifled cries,
The pent-up tears,
Have stained the face
Of countless years.

We hear the taunts
Of cruel men
As his bowed head
Lifts ours again.

Can minds suppress
Such wanton crime?
No, not as long
As earth holds time.

By Dorothy M. Colgan

(Dorothy M. Colgan is a member of St. Meinrad Parish in St. Meinrad. Her son, Benedictine Father Tobias Colgan, a monk and prior of Saint Meinrad Archabbey, wrote music for this poem.) †

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