Jason
Jason never cared much for American tourists. They were flashy, scantily-clad, slovenly, and left gum plastered to the bottoms of cafe railings.
Virginal Love
Who is she who can know my sorrow?
What woman, blameless, has lost the love
of a good man?
Truly, if I am without fault,
and he without guilt,
what woman can know my sorrow?
The Feminine Crucifixion
I open my mouth
and I drink of thyself
I am a vessel - fill me
Fill me with thy agony
I’ll kiss away the bloody sweat
I’ll soothe the dried and bloody mat
of hair from off thy Sacred brow
and kiss the lips that suffer now
My eyes are dark, they cannot see
But what else shall there be but thee?
My mind can grasp your presence, Lord.
And that is all I shall gaze toward.
Heavily Undead
My head lies heavy, but undead
As I writhe upon the bed.
My neck cannot support its head
My broken body - limited.
The Agony of Divine Pain
What mortal vessel can contain
the agony of Divine pain?
He hath chosen that I remain
And at His cross I lie here slain
I beg that Savior’s blood shall stain
Upon my body, soaked like rain
And at my side a piercing pain
A stabbing in my pounding veins
The Pain of the Father
I weep here.
As I lie,
I gasp.
Who can know the pain of the Father?
Who has known the anguish of the Son?
Do the many branches
know that pain
shall emanate from the tree?
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