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…there were days
when I couldn’t open my inner windows fearing that the Sky might fall or that the endless path of the clouds might drip through my cursed flesh when only you illuminated the wooden crosses for the lost pilgrims unraveling tornadoes of despair Jesus clung to the cross I still hear the wet nails twisting heart-like style and I was not enough to carry you on my arms and it was not enough …only the Angel hold me: tears petrifying at His feet…
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