There is a kind Christian shadow
folding over your jagged outline;
ubiquitous is Jesus that every cup
becomes a Grail and every
sheet becomes the Shroud:
the balm of martyrdom quells your pain.
But to heal yourself, you must grieve.
You can not do this as a pure light.
You can not do this as a prophet assuming resurrection.
Give up the ghost,
You are dark as dark can be.