There he proudly sits, beak in the air
right at the peak of the cross,
as if he can smell sin, pain, death;
he knows what this instrument is used for
and he wants to be the first to see it happen,
wants to call out death with a single "caw!"
But he's too late!
The deed has been done,
the blood of my redemption
has been washed from the cross,
the tomb stands empty.
His Spirit soars beyond the crows!
Let him wait,
wait for eternity
he will never find what he is
looking for; sin is no more.
We have been set free!
Love is all that remains.
Awesome picture and poem!
ReplyDeletePerfect truth!
ReplyDeleteNice! Reminds me of that scene in The Passion where the crow lands on the cross of the "bad theif"
ReplyDeleteGreat poem and photo. Did you take the photo?
ReplyDeleteGod bless.
I love the photo, too. I found it on google images. I wish I were a photographer, but sadly, I am not. So, I'm grateful to enjoy the wealth of images on the internet.
ReplyDeleteI did see a crow on a cross, though, which inspired this poem. Yesterday morning when my children and I were entering church, my son Jack pointed up to the cross on top of the steeple and said "Look! A crow on the cross!" That image haunted me all day until I got some words out about it.
Wow! What an incredible photo -- and the poem is equally great. (You have a Latin bent -- the crow as a negative symbol. My daughter-in-law, a Latina, was very upset when a crow set on the branch of the tree under which she and my son were married during the entire wedding ceremony. They have been married now 12 years, so she did not need to worry, but at the time, it really disturbed her.)
ReplyDelete