Lodged in the caverns of my being,
were silences, glimpses of burdened souls,
and echoes of a pensive secret self.
Stirrings. Unsought pointers to despair.
I found them, words of gentleness and love
hewn from knowledge and experience.
Her secret seeking out. Priestly council:
"A Few Words of Encouragement".
And a replica: Cold steel
in an undignified disheveled bed.
His secret. An asking for forgiveness.
Christ crucified: A refuge in the night.
__________
© Cormac McCloskey
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