At the Cross

by D. Allison Smith

I can't see it,
sometimes  if I strain just right,
but I feel it against my skin, warm 
when I'm cold, cool 
when I'm not; it lies 
heavy and strong reassuring me. Gold 

against brown skin, it pulls 
about my neck. So simple 
and plain  it is
just two gold bars
lying across 

one another. While I stride 
in the light, the gift's shine is brilliant, catching 
eyes with it's glint, yielding a pause 
over the One 
embodied. Yet 
there is no glow, if I sit in the dark and 
the smooth structure goes 
unnoticed, unable to share 

it's story. Shower, sleep, walking eat,
it moves 
as I move and sees 

what I see. So, basic and bare 
a thing to be so 
precious to me.