Cross

Behold the cradled skeleton,
there is no straw,
the crib has been taken,
only the cross stays here.

The only things not gone
are bare nailed board and board,
there is no donkey, no oxen,
only the cross, the pain-hoard.

Night without angelry,
day without carol-choir,
the wound’s-wings beg the body:
to where does suffering aspire
when what is is no more?

(Bohuslav Reynek)