We are held gently by the earth, yet crucified by our pain...

The blood line of God is connected to everything...

shells on the ocean shore, the mushrooms growing in the forest, 

the trees stretching to the clouds, the tiniest speck of snow in the winter, 

and our dust-to-dustness...

we are all created and tethered to this sacred gift of creation....

My Jesus

by Catherine Duclos

grecian white wall fall endlessly away

then return

spreading virginal folds of heat

undulating the length

of the freshly killed man

nailed to the wall

supple thighs lay limply together caressed

by razors of sun beating down 

upon the ebony carved body

glazed with ancient sweat

the lion maned head slips

softly to his chest

poised

in acquiescence

above the branches

of the tree

cut into arms

held firmly

by the crucifixion

of insistence