The Five-Minute Cross
In my hospital chair,
I glance at the architecture outside
Enveloped by the blue color of the sky,
Creating and recreating itself
Into forms which are never the same,
Just like two snow-flakes falling to the ground.
The door bell rings;
My nurse walks toward me,
Her hand stretched
To welcome me into her world--
Her belly bulging.
Not giving her a chance to answer,
I extend my hand, as I always do,
Over the baby, yet to be born.
With this very humble hand,
I bless that baby reverently.
On placing her hand over mine,
Of two races in time
Become two human beings--
With the expectation
Of receiving news
On her delivery day,
I continue to glance through the prismatic window.
My eyes follow
The contours of the gray buildings
In a mish-mash of sizes and shapes
Having no order or design;
They stand still,
In defiance of my very presence,
Suddenly, from the East,
Two thick lines of gray air
Begin to fill the sky above the buildings:
Bulkier to its extreme left,
One line extends itself east to west;
The other north to south.
Thick and solid to the left--
And lighter to the right,
They come together into an imposing cross.
After re-adjusting my sight,
The whole cross comes into full view:
Its left outline strong and thick,
Its right lines evanescent
As though I were watching
A Renaissance artist
Create that image on canvas;
I see its large and white frame
Inject itself into the solid blue of a receptive sky.
Phone in hand,
I call for my nurse to come back--
The digital clock registering 4:25,
I wait to see as time moves on.
Finally, just as the clock is reaching 4:30,
She rushes in with a flustered look on her face:
“Are you alright!”
Clutching her hand, I take her to the window.
“There, look: it is about to disappear.”
Her eyes fixed on the phenomenon cross,
She squeezes my hand
As the last part of the cross’ outline
Disappears into the deep blue sky.
It is exactly 4:30.
Her mouth open,
She turns toward me:
“Jesus is still with us,” she asserts,
Sitting on my hospital chair,
I ask myself in disbelief:
“What has just happened?”
Adolfo, I call that a God Incident!
Notice that the picture shown for your nurse changed...Perhaps for her, Jesus is always attached to the Cross and easily visible... It is so wonderful to find images that remind us of the way Christ died on the Cross for each of us! But some of us ask...What? Why?
The Answer is Simple...
What just happened, Adolfo?
I believe you were just told that
You are Loved...
And because you shared those five minutes...
You've also told all who read your poetry...
That we, also are loved!
Thank you, Adolfo
Thank You, Jesus
Thank You, God