Here the soil is barren
Here, nothing grows but crosses

They know not what they do
You – your forgiveness falls as dew…

Nailed upon a wooden frame
Twisted yet unbroken
Open mouthed, a silent choir:
Understood, unspoken
Never was there heard a sound
Until the heavens opened

Now the tide is turning
To other-wordly yearning
Through the sun’s eclipse seems final
Surely he will rise again…

2 comments on “Triptych

  1. Thom Hickey says:

    Thanks. Powerful stuff. Regards from Thom at the immortal jukebox.


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