Ascending the steps, labored, determined
twelve, like the apostles
spreading word of salvation,
the new family of choice
Should I catch you stumbling,
should I be your Pierrot,
or Judas in the midst?
Walls are erected to face winds of change,
pink is the color of watered blood
communion is the memory of belong and un-love
the story unarmored, the clay mask of you and me
A tree mudra in March wind
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