PASSION
The world is drowning in blood
Bodies, hearts, broken dreams.
The piercing cries of the innocent, and guilty
Have reached the far round rim of stars
The vast dark emptiness is full
Crammed with helpless hunger pains
Crying with the din of the dying:
The once beautiful balance of galaxies and stellar oceans
Is upended as the scales pile high
With the heavy sighs from one frail ball
The fingers of the suffering Lover
Pull at the edges of space, peeling them in,
The orbs begin to slide and tumble like shining silver fish
As the net of space is drawn in
In to the innocent naked body
Of the suffering man:
The world drowns in his blood
And he wraps his nakedness in a cloak of stars
Only to shake them out again, innocent, clean and singing
For a frail ball made new.
Wilf. Easter 2024
