Reflection before the Cross
This afternoon, Christ of Calvary,
I came to beg you for my sick flesh;
but when I see you, my eyes come and go
from my body to your body with shame.
How can I complain about my tired feet,
when I see yours destroyed?
How to show you my empty hands,
when yours are full of wounds?
How can I explain to you my loneliness,
when you are raised on the cross and you are alone?
How can I explain to you that I don’t have love,
when your heart is torn
Now I don’t remember anything
all my diseases fled from me.
The impetus of the plea that brought
drowns in my begging mouth.
And I only ask not to ask you for anything.
To be here next to your dead image
and go learning that pain is only
the holy key of your holy door.
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