Our betraying places...
Bitter cups, ever draining,
Prayerless saints, ever sleeping,
Clattering silver coins, ever echoing,
Weeping penitents, ever supplicating.
Holy hands and dirty feet,
The breast of the Divine, saints blissful sleep,
Dipping the cup, kissing the cheek,
Slicing the ear, rooster’s forming the meek.
Broken bread, poured out wine,
Singing voices, last whispered pleadings,
Priestly prayers and dead men’s guts, bleeding.
Penetrating glance...from all knowing face,
Risings and fallings from shunned grace;
Too many words, from us, have been spoken,
Yet, angels still visit...these betraying places,
Always healed...but ever broken.
-Eric Blauer (4.09.09)
Picture by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, (29 September 1571 – 18 July 1610)