as he dropped
from the heavens
god cried
his son
gone
constellations crossed his skin
some may call it
freckles
sunspots
mary knew better
her son bore
the marks of heaven
on his skin
a roadmap
to wherein he must
return
YOU ARE READING
digital dance - poetry
Poetryyoure not alone in the way you scream at a god who hears but does not understand or care to learn
