a woman is caressing the scaffold laughing
here, she says to her servants, here i shall rest my wrists and my chin over here
and in between
there shall be nothing but the lump in my throat
I have a little neck
which shan't bleed fear nor blood

then she pulled off her pearls which bounced around shining like the droplets of rain
amongst the ravens gathering at her feet
she reaped off her dress stitched in gold
and nursed the tired arm of the executioner
who was sharpening his blade sobbing

she threw her crown to the crowds
their screams made her laugh yet again
dozens of women were now unplaiting her hair
which smelled of His hands still
they were washing her face with the water He brought from the well
whispering the words from His book
caressing the lips oozing down a breast

and as the sun was melting the chain in her ankle
she was wondering of the beauty of the sky
above and bellow
and the corner of her left eye nested in
the hand that was raising rightfully and surely
above her head

in clothes of hay she then raised above the crowds
and said:
in heresy the power of love
kneels and prays
in heresy the power of love
kneels and repeats:
"Jesus, save Mylord, my goodliest and gentlest Master of all times
Jesus, save Mylord my goodliest and gentlest Master of all times
Jesus, tell Mylord my goodliest and gentlest Master of all times that I .... ..."

*

-Baby!
-Mylord?
-Wake up! You're dreaming.

♥