Good Friday in Bak Tower Gardens


Stones 
  set in 
      concrete
urging my   soft pink soles   against their pebbled surface

Pink-marble tower
fine
unenterable
rising up   from the mountain's peak

Trees 
laden
heavy with oranges

Steady   aging oaks
planted by  immortal hands

plants
exotic
unimaginably beautiful
reflected  
doubly 
in still water

pure pine groves
squirrels unafraid
for for the first time
tangeable

I 
without shoes
such a still place

Jesus has been betrayed
    I can smell blooming orange groves
    I am filled with the smell so sweet
on the day I am to remember
thorns piercing ancient   young flesh
blood drying
pain
pure death

for me
today
ultimate mercy


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