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.


Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight8(at)

Leave a comment

Your Cart
  • No products in the cart.