Cries

Cries

A cry breaks the still night,
As a new mother’s tears begin to laugh.
The child is held up for her to see,
Bathed in warm blood and nervously shaking.

A cry breaks through the murmuring masses,
As a cross’s shadow receives a mother’s tears.
Her child is held up by nails for all to see,
Drenched in blood, with muscles wearily twitching.



Eloi, Eloi Lama Sabachthani