Spring Triduum, One.
I want to forget this April day
when Spring pierces my heart
like a spear of fire,
as you throw away the stones in your pockets
in the name of an ineffable present.
The past, albeit gone, swells inside me
like the sweeping river of grief.
The future is uncertain dawn.
Strewn with sharp glass is the path --
a Via Crucis inside my heart.