Theresa’s
Bloody and sore back
Crawls on crooked trails
Through the structures of her lifetime
Swaying and dancing
Burdened with a poor smile
Of that safety giving dramatic art
Where strange word plaitings search
For the ears of those charitable creatures
Who understand to carry their own burdens
Theresa the admired
Exalted on the trails
Of her mincing lifetime
Laughs and looks down to
Those who are truthful
Theresa’s words
Are those streams of nothing
Floating on the transfigured surface
Of an unpredictable ocean
While broken eyes
Tell their own unconscious tale
Telling about the fiends of seclusion
About her nights moistened with sweat
Lying in those strangers' arms
Who send warmth from necropolis
Theresa the imprisoned
Lost in the streams of
Her wretched existence
Kneels down and looks up
To the one who is called
Jesus