In the front pew I sit awaiting my parents. Before me is a huge old cross to which a wooden Jesus is nailed. I examine His outstretched arms, the way His head hangs down. My atheist uncle says death on a cross comes through asphyxiation. There’s no way, he argues, that Jesus called “Why hast Thou forsaken me?” while choking to His death.
The Pastor’s hand on my shoulder startles me. He meets my eye, then looks up to that same cross. “What’s amazing,” he says while pointing with his Bible, “is that everything inside this Book is true.”
My parents arrive as the service begins. As much as I try to pay attention, I get distracted when the Pastor clears his throat.
afternoon sun …
my shadow and I
the same length
Haiku Canada Review Feb 2020
Contemporary Haibun 16