Sunday, January 10, 2016


Through the waters of holiness I asked to go
Not knowing what it means
Nor that I have to look upon
Fields of blood.
The violence of soft things
Is a murder farm
Quiet as space
Trying to remain hidden
As backdrop

Today I do not ask
Why have we come here
Nor why have You led me here...
Mute silence.
That you love me
A murderer
of beauty
That you stayed
Stay with me

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