The Cross
Stood alone quiet restless and historic
The Cross
The hill is quiet under a wide sky
grass moving slow in the wind
shadows stretching far and thin
The wood stands worn and splintered
its weight long given to the earth
its story carved deep in silence
No crowd gathers now
no voices call out
only the sound of air passing through
The ground holds what it remembers
the blood, the footsteps, the fall
and the stillness after it was done
The cross waits without asking
it does not call for tears
it stands because it has always stood
And if you walk there alone
you will feel its truth in the air
a truth too old for words
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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