Friday

What can I say to you?

Is there any word that could come from my mouth?

any thought? any sentence?

You died.

Let me just stand and look.

Your body is broken, your head wounded,

your hands and feet split open by nails,

side pierced.

Your dead body now rests in the arms of your Mother.

Let me look at you.

(my adaptation of the Good Friday reading from Show Me the Way by Henri J.M. Nouwen)