Friday, September 4, 2009

Pick Up Your Cross: A Poem

As I share in chapter 2 of Return To Rome, I wrote a lot poetry when I was younger. (In fact, I put some of them to music I composed). Lately, I've been inspired to write again. Here's something I wrote on the plane from Chicago to Houston this afternoon:

Pick Up Your Cross
by Francis J. Beckwith

St. Hermit tenders heaven’s gate
With a promised journey absent of frieght

As if eternity were mine by right
As if darkness were just a darkened light
As if the whole point were a race from sorrow
As if today’s end depended on tomorrow

Ye shall know the truth; it will set you free
Pick up your cross and follow me.

Your father’s Nicea; it’s true, I swear
He sired a creed, and you’re the creed’s heir

No good is alone in the Kingdom of Christ
Neither man nor God, the latter is thrice
He is the vine and we are the branches
If heaven were Texas, it would have many ranches.

Ye shall know the truth; it will set you free
Pick up your cross and follow me.

St. Narcissus with a pail of detergent
With cultural bleach that makes him emergent

As if incense were ecclesial perfume
As if cremation unwhitewashes a tomb.
As if the mortal does not die and corrode
As if to a nurf tree Christ had been velcroed

Ye shall know the truth; it will set you free
Pick up your cross and follow me.
--

© 2009 Francis J. Beckwith

1 comment:

Andrew Preslar said...

He is the vine and we are the branches
If heaven were Texas, it would have many ranches.


legit.