Five Haiku’s

My Child

Her tears were falling

washing memories away

of the empty crib.

Pilate

He sits at table

reaches for the blood red wine

with his blood stained hand.

Good Friday

Day has become night

the condemned slowly die

the people walk away.

Maundy Thursday

Bread is broken open

dirty feet cleansed with his tears

as wine becomes blood.

Love Lost

In the dim moonlight

I reach out to feel your warmth

in that vacant space.

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