••• XLI

home is where my heart is

find me there

Avignon captivity. the smell of incense. you can sense it from under the snow. aware of how cruelty can feel soft and pleasant when still in check.

i am leaving Europe for hot and dusty paths. it has blessed me with a few days of snow. i have never wandered this far away from my churchyard, naturally i reached it for a farewell blessing. bathed in its warmth when freezing.

.,.

••• XL

the white Christ

for the gravity is always multiplied for saviours. for their messengers. can we resist? let us hope for mercyful snowfalls. like the one of today, when i marked st. Jacob's with my intruder footprints. black boots on the impeccable snowdown, a red silhouette with hair only half-red. half-dipped in blood, life essence. and half-open for the cycle of passing.

the snowflakes so perfect and still, solace of falling. melting on my mobile screen. i felt i breathed out for the first time in two weeks. chill and stillness.

relief.

and the downward bound Christ that kept me standing agaze. a favourable lord as long as… right, i
almost heard him whispering -


as long as your army
keeps perfectly still


.,.