Published: March 26, 2021
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Dear Friends:
I send you this poem to consider on Friday, April 2, which will be Good Friday.
The backstory is . . . There are shrines all over the desert that are created by our neighbors migrating north. Some are just a rosary and a candle. Others are more developed.
One of these well-developed shrines is not far from Arivaca Lake. It has Holy Cards, pesos, candles, and more. . . In the middle of everything is a wooden crucifix.
Last week, while I was dropping off water in the desert, I visited this shrine for the first time in more than a year. It was weathered and not well maintained. Seems the trail hasn't been used as much lately. I noticed that Jesus had slid down from the cross and was still standing. It was a moment.
I've cried at this shine many times, but this visit, all I could do was rejoice . . . and this poem wrote itself.
I saw Jesus.
Come off his cross.
He slid right down
From his niche
Between The Virgin of Guadalupe
And St. Jude.
Above the used water bottles
And empty salchicha tins.
On a migrant shrine north of the border
Two days walk.
I guess he wanted to hit the trail.
After all he was a migrant and visionary
So they nailed him to that cross.
This time around
He wasn’t waiting for resurrection
To make his move.
This time he’d already risen
In the passers-by.
john heid, Pima Friends Meeting, Tucson, AZ (3/16/2021)