This Poem was Submitted By: Darlene A Moore On Date: 2003-04-05 19:38:22 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Died with Him

Old blood, the color of chocolate, stains deep, steeped  into the tightly woven  fabric. The wounds fresh in memory cannot be washed away. The touch of iron pounded through live flesh. The vision of pain, his eyes  alive in the depths of agony. The spear that pierced a heart. In linen wrapped the sight, the marks of death. My death wrapped within that cloth. My blood soaked into its fibers. Laid, buried the stains.

Copyright © April 2003 Darlene A Moore

Additional Notes:
an Easter meditative poem

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