Thursday, October 28, 2010

If I had prayed with her

in the garden while the others slept,
or joined her on that storm-clouded hill
as the one from Aramathea,
immersed in the ocean trench of his grief,
gently lowered the torn and bloodied corpse,
or if I had risen up in the middle
of the air as the joyous
echoed through skies witnessing
the coming of the Kingdom,
would she have
seen past my formless heart,
and kept me alive

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