Simon MacCulloch, ‘The Sign of the Cross’

There’s a cross in the field where the scarecrow stood
And the ravens have all come back
And the ravens would say, if they only could
That a scarecrow is straw and a cross is wood
And the wings of a famine black.

There’s a cross on the grave where the hero lies
He whose war was to end all wars
And his empty skull holds a thousand why’s
And the crow that struts on his grave replies
With a thousand triumphant caws.

There’s a cross on the hill where the scapegoat hung
Like a scarecrow to ward off sin
And the prayers are said and the hymns are sung
And the gorcrows perch on their hills of dung
Where the plagues of the world begin.

There’s a cross in the dark of the Southern sky
Where the stars wink a long farewell
As the ghosts of the ravens prepare to fly
To return to the void of their black god’s eye
With a tale that they’ll never tell.

*****

Simon MacCulloch writes: “This poem melds the Christian symbol of death and resurrection with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in an attempt to express how one feels after reading the world news in recent times.”

‘The Sign of the Cross’ was first published in Pulsebeat Poetry Journal.

Simon MacCulloch lives in London and contributes poetry to a variety of journals including Reach Poetry, View from Atlantis, Spectral Realms, Altered Reality, Aphelion and others.

Illustration: “tomorrow….” by begemot_dn is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.