By wounds I am saved
yet by wounds I fall.
How can the blood
that keeps my soul alive
differ so from that which
loosely keeps my heart intact?
How can the tears that promise paradise
differ so from the stains on my pillow,
evidence from a night in Hell?
How can the bruises that define Him
differ so from the purples and blacks
that define my ribs?
How can the cries that are answered
with bliss differ so from mine,
with only silence as an answer?
My God, My God,
Why have you forsaken me?
yet by wounds I fall.
How can the blood
that keeps my soul alive
differ so from that which
loosely keeps my heart intact?
How can the tears that promise paradise
differ so from the stains on my pillow,
evidence from a night in Hell?
How can the bruises that define Him
differ so from the purples and blacks
that define my ribs?
How can the cries that are answered
with bliss differ so from mine,
with only silence as an answer?
My God, My God,
Why have you forsaken me?

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