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in a glorious church

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look at you

Jesus

on such an ornate cross

we don’t truck

with indignity

or even

execution

you’re still alive

up there

though as you die

you die for us

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rude cross

more like it

wooden beams

thick branches

off the trees

of the Earth

we say the nails were iron

ongoing execution business

for a smith

with earthly metals

coal to burn

or pieces of wood

cut off

shaved off

something like the matter

of a cross

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c l couch

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Photo by Michael Newcomb on Unsplash

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I don’t mean to be a spoilsport about faith and faith art; I do think spiritual simplicity might be important

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Since we built the church, there were pewter candlesticks upon the altar; Francis Nurse made them, y’know, and a sweeter hand never touched the metal. But Parris came, and for twenty weeks he preached nothin’ but golden candlesticks until he had them. I labor the earth from dawn of day to blink of night, and I tell you true, when I look to heaven and see my money glaring at his elbows – it hurt my prayer, sir, it hurt my prayer. I think, sometimes, the man dreams cathedrals, not clapboard meetin’ houses.

John Proctor

The Crucible

Act 2

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