Sonata Three Healing
from NONE - The Hours of the Cross
Arms invisibly wrapped around me – like
two slings of maternity to my weakness
console. Her light wings are conspired to
transport my soul to paradise.
Air of my submissiveness turns joy
From remedial pain - cautious to cross
The dark ocean of fear. Lines widening,
Stark on the torso of these untow’d tides,
Be as bountiful as the festive fair
At the approach of the feasting and fast -
I place at your feet a blood libation,
Even shadows of all remorsefulness
From source and purest flow; I come to breathe
This divine presence, this healing balm.
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