And this flesh yielded
To the thorns,
And the nails.
Stripped naked of pretense
Hanging there before them.
and yet on the thief’s cross beneath him.
meditating in my chair
on Christmas Eve morning.
I was so close
to being scourged by that pain.
My pain. And yet it was held separate from me.
The ground reached up and wanted to pull me down.
It tore the flesh where the nails pierced me.
I am broken.
A song rose up and surrounded me.
Covered me. Entered me through the holes in my hands.
And then it was gone.
And I was
I was more alone than ever before.
This, this is the way of things!
Three days dead and also forever.
And next, (There was a next!)
I was the song.