Saturday, August 02, 2014

Nothing of value

I remember the deer
A fawn we called Bambi
Not very original but it had
A cut off leg of
Glass or maybe china
Or was it plastic, most likely
Nothing of value, just
Part of the interior
Standing on the rack
Under the cross, Jesus
Watching over it
When we sat to learn
From textbooks and
Also in the late afternoons
And nights, deserted rooms
The deer never slept
Neither did Jesus
He kept suffering
From nails in his bones
And we kept him there
Target of daily prayers
We would make fun of it
The fawn, surrogate of the cross
Who could smile at Jesus
Looking down at us like that
Bambi never complained
Maybe some of us prayed
For the leg to grow back
Or the resurrection
I don’t know
Who placed it there

It must have been
An act of desperation