The Crucifix

The Crucifix
By Michael McManus

In cloistered halls where wisdom's light does gleam,
A nun bestowed a gift, a sacred dream,
A crucifix of wood, a symbol pure,
To bless and guide, its meaning to endure.

With tender words, she bid me go,
To priest's abode, where blessings freely flow,
I took the cross, entrusted in my care,
To seek the priest's solemn blessing there.

Returned, the crucifix, now blessed anew,
I placed it in the nun's kind hands, her due.
Yet on my birthday's dawn, a joy untold,
The nun returned the cross, a gift to hold.

A surprise so sweet, a gesture so sincere,
She wished me joy on this my special year,
The crucifix, a token of her love,
A symbol shared from heaven above.

In humble grace, our spirits intertwined,
A bond of faith, our lives forever bind,
The boy, the teacher-nun, the crucifix, a sign,
Of blessings passed, a connection so divine.

And now, fully embracing doubt,
My soul takes flight to Atheism's rout.
Yet in a corner of my heart's abode
A flicker of faith in a different code – the act of human kindness.

A Birthday Gift in 1953 (from my Teacher, Sister Mary Agnes)