How could I love my fellow men who tortured me?
One night I was dragged into a room
And beaten near death with
striking me hundreds of times
in the face, scarring me
I cried out for God to help, until I fainted.
That night in a dream, in a dream more real than this world,
a strap from the Christ’s sandal
fell from my bleeding
and I looked at Him and He
was weeping, and
“I cobbled their boots;
What moves all things
Poetry of the Soul