Jesus crucified amidst a symphony of flowers.
A song of sudden colours, of windblown music.
The birds silent as the sky turns sombre,
Imperial purple blinding the sun.
And yet strangely luminous the deepest of
shadows,
Midnight interwoven with noon.
Clematis and buttercups.
Apple blossom and winged seeds.
Asters and daffodils.
Tulips and Chrysanthemums.
Flowers from every season, from every continent
blooming
On the skull white rocks of this desert hillside
Used for day to day executions.
This was the bleakest spot near the city.
This was the silent place of sorrows.
Briar roses encircle the cross
With a hedge that reaches the crown of thorns.
Lambs entangled in the stems and branches
Bleat soft prayers that few can hear.
Even Jesus seems deaf on the cross,
And yet he calms them with his tears.
Mary rescues the smallest of the lambs
And holds him as though he were her child.
Saint John feeds the lamb from his satchel of bread.
Three days later the storm had passed.
Three days later the crowds had dispersed.
Love moved the stone, unsealed the tomb,
Golgotha changed into a sea of flowers.
Even the cross took root and flourished,
Became an oak tree rich in leaf.
Then all the birds in all the gardens
Of Jerusalem broke into song.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
July 18th. - 19th. - 20th. - 21st. 2021.
Based on a semi abstract picture of Christ crucified in a garden of large flowers that I painted a year or two ago.
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