In my lap, once more I hold him.
In lamentation beyond tears,
I cradle his broken body,
Where he had been and is no more.
How they pierced and flayed my boy.
Tenderly, I recall my child,
his head soft upon my shoulder.
I try now to believe he is only sleeping.
He fed the hungry, healed the afflicted
and offered hope to those who are daily
eaten alive by an uncaring world.
And for this he is tortured,
murdered and lies built upon him.
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