This poem started as a reflection on one of the Stations of the Cross - the 10th Station: Jesus is Stripped of his garments. I can only imagine the pain of having the dried cloth ripped off his body. As I went through the retreat, I realized that I was going through the same ripping of the cloth. I bandaged my wounds with dirty cloth in my hurry to get healed. But they didn't heal. I had to go through the painful stripping, to revisit old wounds, so that the healing bandage can be used. Only the bandage of his love can heal my wounds.
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From the AuthorI've started writing when I was 10. To me, poetry expresses my inmost self, when words are just not enough. Archives
July 2016
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