Poem: “Crushed”


Dragged to the cross, submissive.
Broken by boards slung across his back.
Violence in every aspect
Inflicted by external forces.
Holes pierced by nails driven with
Violent swings of an iron mallet.
Blood flows, precious blood,
Which becomes wine.
But only after the the grapes are picked, and

(Based on the Garden of Gethsemane which is where olives were crushed to make oil. The word gethsemane is derived from two Hebrew words: gat, which means “a place for pressing oil (or wine)” and shemanim, which means “oils.”)

Stacy Peterson


Stacy received a BA in PSCI from VaTech and taught for several years. As a former Marine reservist and Officer Candidate, she brings Semper Fidelis to her vocation as wife and mother. She ponders the world around her and on occasion pens an essay. She may be reached at stacypeterson40@hotmail.com.