And in the blur

And in the blur of suffering

I’m an infant who cries out,

Despite the Mother incessantly cradling,

Unable to perceive anything more than dusky figures.

I only peer into shadows,

Unresponsive to the vivid red of Love

That embraces at my very core.

I look outward to the empty shapes

When Love’s pouring Himself

Mournfully, compassionately, completely

Into the void of my mistrusting heart.