Thursday, March 28, 2013

Metanoia

A secluded chapel,
it's vaulted ceiling and cool stone
walls,
serene and cocoon-like

Facing the altar table, a plain wooden
cross hangs
It holds a bronze crucifix within
a simple circle

A rough hewn figure of Christ leans
down to embrace a limp human one
resting in His arms
My eyes riveted,
I intuit the bottomless well
 of love

Stiff muscles loosen like
unspooling rope
My pain lessens
While I sit in silence,
the thin veil parts and
I too am upheld

As a fine blade is tempered
in blazing fire, my suffering
transforms into something
sublime

Note: The word metanoia is of Greek derivation and means a spiritual transformation.  This poem is a major revision of one previously posted which has been removed.  I feel privileged to post it now, on the eve of Good Friday.  The chapel, dedicated to St. Augustine of Hippo, is in Washington National Cathedral's Cathedral College (formerly the College of Preachers).  The crucifix sculpture is by Gurdon Brewster, a retired Episcpalian priest and professional sculptor.  It is entitled "Welcome Home."

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