Bulbous beads of molten solder
The creature’s tears well up
As if surging forth from a path
Of struck heart. Bits of moist chill
Filling across the lower lash
Both blurry and heavy; heavy and blurry
Until gravity grabs and free falls
And splashes the cheek;
A shining slug trail streaking its
Descent; healing, healing though
Mourning...it is saved.
The cool stripes on its face,
A signature recompense for
The beaten and lashed; the bitter, bloody,
Burning, raw stripes - and felt
By His Most Sacred Heart.
- Gary Edward Geraci
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