At the cross
His pain that I cannot stand.
My hands nailed, helpless.
This absence that is a weight.
This grief so like death, so living.
This regret, unwelcome predator.
What I could have done, and why not.
My weight he bears, that lifts him up.
He came to find me in my ruin.
This is the part when I cannot know.
Only later: that I was not alone.
Love that holds even death in its arms.