Neath a foreboding sky,
a man, silent, alone
haltingly trudges up the hill.
The earth, unsteady,
as nails pierce and swords puncture
mingling water, blood, and dust.

From the tree,
a breath taken,
then given away.

This is the turning—
the world, like a leaf,
fallen,
now caught
in the hand
of grace.

My Lord and my God.