Visio Divina

Visio Divina

Kaylene Graham

The crucifix weighs the light above
and I am visited by the silent voice:

All you who pass by the way —
Lord, give me strength to stay.

The eyes are closed, suffering still,
a shadow on his cheek, a bruise.

The lips, white, close over spit
thick with blood and dust and thirst.

Chest bare, the arc of ribs refracted
in the reaching roof above. And below,

an indent, shadowed subtly in the hollow
between the laddered bones and bowels,

a place I know, a scar on my own child.
The dent where fluid drained the wound

furrowed deep into her infant breast —
a downward dimple, a cleft in flesh.

And now the evening shadows rise
like feathered grief, a sweeping scrim,

shrouding all life, except for what is
lighted from within.

---

Kaylene Graham
Writer & Editor

Kaylene's writing has been published in The Two Cities, Fare Forward, and Wayfare Magazine. She also serves as Catechist for her local parish in La Mirada, California.

Photography by Michail Dementiev