Wipe this wood clean
of the dull sheen of blood, salt, grief, bile.
Relieve us. Show us something to make us smile,
A version less villainous,
Less traumatizing to our innocence.
Remove the evidence
Of gasps, groans, and sighs of a holy Love,
a Fool to be held up to ridicule.
(Who would pray to such as this
Who serves as prey to such as they?)
Wood wiped clean,
Place the lily, white with subtle fragrances,
Reminiscent of heavenly angel’s melodic cadences,
Not of their armies gathering round
Anticipating the whispering reply of Divinity’s deafening sound.
Oh earth, oh sky, oh Mother suffering from seven swords!
You bow, you blaze, you pray, you bleed
While plodding and fearful, we must proceed to where the wood is,
Strewing soft lilies on the land
Before us, behind us, and where the dull sheened wood will always stand.
DM 02/27/2021
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