Good Friday in Juvie


for Wyatt

The rocky ground bores holes in my tender feet as I march to the hill
my cell of concrete less forgiving than a bullet shooting through my chest
Jesus they mocked you too, and spat sharply on your beautiful face
smack the tears off of our stinging cheeks
I taste the metal blood dripping from the thorns of your crown
Our families turn the other way, denying our pleas our cries
my begging
we bleed hot despair
vinegar rips the flesh of our mouths
and our ears when they call us criminals
as if our mistakes imprison our ability to love, to regret
forgive them, but
that I tremble from the heartbreak of abandonment
the world long ago ceased to claim our toxic existence
but you, Lord,
You will rise from depths that pin me down
and suffocate my thirsty black lungs
the only hope
that I can grasp
through the cuffs that bind the bones of my wrists
that I can see
through the assertive silver bars separating me from my humanity
Save me
because no one else will
because I can’t drag my cross much further.

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