What happens after healing?
The woman who touched the hem of his garment, chases
crowds, squints through ripples of heat for sight of him.
Surely, she’ll be satisfied if he looks her way again, if
she can see the pool of her heart reflected in his eyes.
Her gratitude is the weight of the ocean,
her tongue, a sponge, crashes against the silent stone.
There is no more bleeding, only the percussion of rock
cracking open.
The stones will sing her praises when she cannot
find him, the stones will sing to him when he is broken for her.
The woman who touched the hem of his garment, chases
crowds, squints through ripples of heat for sight of him.
Surely, she’ll be satisfied if he looks her way again, if
she can see the pool of her heart reflected in his eyes.
Her gratitude is the weight of the ocean,
her tongue, a sponge, crashes against the silent stone.
There is no more bleeding, only the percussion of rock
cracking open.
The stones will sing her praises when she cannot
find him, the stones will sing to him when he is broken for her.