Behind barbed wire
In the county jail
Woman recites poetry;
Declares she’ll die.
Bodies young, old
Form lines.
Summoned to penance,
Knowing they’ll die.
Bodies in lines
Words in lines
Dust and grime
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
A friar
smudges
symbol
into brow
after brow.
The texture:
touch, trust.
We are
blackened
by death.
We gasp
in prayer.
We sigh
line breaks.
We ache
as children,
as symbols
on pages.
Each
offering:
poem,
prayer,
body --
Living
Sacrifice.
Love in flesh
is pierced
by thorns,
killed
on a cross.
Then and now.
We deny
ourselves
So we don’t
deny Him.
We remember
our death.
