I write my letter to you on a plank of wood
With three sharp pens, whose iron nibs
Scribe in the red ink of my seeping blood.
I play my music to you on my hollow ribs,
My ringing bones, my drumming heart that could
Beat out all time if it had not been broken.
I sing my love song to you with my dying breath,
I the one Word by whom the world was spoken.
What came to be through me I now make good,
Repair all wrongs, and bring you through my death
Into my timeless present, for I love you.
Take life from me, who took my life, and should
Your anxious heart still need some other token,
Look up: my love is deeper than the sky above you.
tRuth 2018
image copyright tRuth http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/
poem prayer silence 