Silent Cross


Under the cross
what bliss!
The marks of time are there,
and the wounds of the nails
can really be seen
to the naked eye that only seeks God's beauty.


Under the cross,
the empty cross -
no Jesus can be seen,
but, to the eye of faith,
He is there.
His head, limp, to the side;
downward his silent gaze;
the dried-up blood shows the journey
of His Passion
and His Death.


To the heart that seeks Him,
to the soul that yearns for Him,
this silent cross,
bare and profound,
speaks, oh, so much!
And ever, so gentle!
He touches my spirit
and leads me to Him -
through valleys -
through rivers -
through storms -
and quiet breezes -


All nature speaks loudly
and the tunes can be heard
all praising
all adoring
this God who died for me
and left me as a great gift,
this bare, still cross.





image and poetry (c) Juana Sanchez-Presas, 2001

webdesign (c) Paul Buis, 2000