Yes, I’ll journey with

you to Skull Hill

in springtime,

the hyacinths

dripping of

perfume and

the lily blazing

purity in the

flooding sunshine

of noonday. I’m

frail and naked

and ashamed—

beaten and exposed

to my bone’s marrow,

but I will go

with you. I’ll fall

upon you

in the river of

crimson that

flows from your

pierced body. I’ll

let go there—yes!

I’ll give way—

to the deluge

of your scars

and beauty mixed,

my bruises and

brokenness slathered,

wholly

holy

covered in blood.

-Bonnie Saul Wilks