In the shadow of the fallen crucifix
he is bent, digesting wood splinters.
Massive pools of sacrifice
saturate his torn feet as he fell to his knees.
He dipped his pierced hands
into the distorted reflection
of his pasty cheeks and knotted hair.
The deep amber sand swallowed his blistered toes
and he bathed in the praise of the calm air
brushing against the cage of his naked ribs.
He held the burning ground close to his chest
as he closed his bloodshot eyes and prayed.
No comments:
Post a Comment