MY PENTATEUCH
Veronica's Handkerchief
Veronica treasured
his face in the folds
of her handkerchief.
But he chose
to bear
his life's cross
to his death.
Veronica treasured
between the chambers of my heart.
A lock of her hair snipped
next to my head.
As the dust of this earth,
holy and warm.
I was crucified for life.
Gray.
Buried deep.
And no handkerchief.
To absorb my sweat.
For the next generations.