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Lone, stone body of Christ…
Is this blood truly my own?
What lies to rise, once sacrificed?
You hang over immortal bone.
White scars travel up your spine.
Is this blood truly mine?
Darkness: the language that we sigh,
As every nigh the dead begin to cry.
Is this blood truly my own?
© 2018 Marten Hoyle
Is this blood truly my own?
What lies to rise, once sacrificed?
You hang over immortal bone.
White scars travel up your spine.
Is this blood truly mine?
Darkness: the language that we sigh,
As every nigh the dead begin to cry.
Is this blood truly my own?
© 2018 Marten Hoyle
Published 30th Oct 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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