A Fresh Poem: "Crosses"

And, for those who would like, a few words about it.

A medieval “plague cross” with the wounds of Christ, woodcut printed on silk.

I am glad to share this fresh poem today, which I hope will be of interest both to my Christian subscribers and to my many subscribers of other faiths, or of no faith at all. I plan to include it in my forthcoming collection, The Locust Years, releasing in Spring of 2025 from Wiseblood Books.

You can find a short video of me reading it over on Twitter/X, and I have written some words of insight into it below, for my (very kind!) paid subscribers.

Crosses
by Paul J. Pastor

The Carpenter’s was made of wood.
The Mother’s was her son.
So it is with everyone.
With everyone.

What we hold dear is laid on us.
Then we are laid on it.
And down us run the blood and spit.
The blood and spit.

The lover’s cross is made of love.
Someone’s is made of me.
God’s cross is made of all we see.
Of all we see.