…there were days
when I couldn’t open
my inner windows
fearing
that the Sky might fall

or that the endless path
of the clouds
might drip
through my cursed flesh

when only you illuminated
the wooden crosses
for the lost pilgrims
unraveling tornadoes
of despair

Jesus clung to the cross
I still hear
the wet nails twisting
heart-like style
and I was not enough
to carry you on my arms
and it was not enough

…only the Angel
hold me:
tears petrifying
at His feet…