The cross is one of the most studied subjects in the art world. I have long been fascinated by how a device once used to torture and subjugate people is now often considered art. This photograph is of only one of many pieces of art featuring the cross I saw at a restaurant in Antigua, Guatemala.

It seems that either we are very strange, cruel, morbid creatures or something beyond our ability to logically comprehend took place on that Black Friday two thousand years ago. Or both.  Thus we need art to express it and grasp at it. My art is not sculpture or color, but words. Years ago, in college, I penned this poem to grasp at what took place on the cross.

Sculpture seen in Antigua, Guatemala. Photo by Eugene C. Scott

Ancient Art

Two hammers rang out

with dull metallic thuds,

first one, then another,

then both.

Sweat dripped, running into the holes,

soiling their work,

wetting rough spikes,

making their journey smooth.

Raising It into place, Its beauty struck

with the brutal impact used to form It.

Its grotesqueness ran red over the hill;

It’s shadow stretched out–beyond belief.

His body jumped,

fingers scratching at bloody spikes,

blood stained eyes

creeping open on a now pure white world,

He died.

by Eugene C. Scott

circa 1984

Eugene C. Scott thinks poetry is really hard to write. He hopes it’s not hard to read. You can join the Living Spiritually community by following this blog and clicking here and liking the page. He is also co-pastor of The Neighborhood Church. If you live in or around Denver, join us at The Neighborhood church for Good Friday and Easter worship experiences this week. Click here to find out more.


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