A Quiet Roar

J Kirk Richards, "Though He Were Dead, Yet Shall He Live"

A Quiet Roar

one

he lays his left hand along the beam

hand that moulded clay into fluttering birds

hand that cupped wild flowers to learn their peace

hand that stroked the bee’s soft back and touched death’s sting

two

he stretches his right hand across the grain

hand that blessed a dead corpse quick

hand that smeared blind spittle into sight

hand that burgeoned bread, smoothed down the rumpled sea

three
 

he stands laborious

sagging, split, homo erectus, poor bare forked thing

hung on nails like a picture

he is not beautiful

blood sweats from him in rain

far off where we are lost, desert dry

thunder begins its quiet roar

the first drops startle us alive

the cloud no bigger

than a man’s hand

Veronica Zundel 

We know this story so well. Jesus, God's son, dies on the cross. We know it was for love of us. For love of the whole world. Did nature, did the animals know their Creator walked the earth? Did they recognize him? The winds and waves did. And when he was crucified, the sun darkened, there were earthquakes, rocks split apart, and the curtain in the temple was torn in two. And yet somehow, Jesus' death in the midst of all this, was easily overlooked by humans.