Surrender to a ruin

The farmhouse I pass

by the side of this godforsaken

mountain road

is a ruin, a shell,

long abandoned, empty of humanity.

Still, you’re here,

up against a crumbling wall.

Odd.

I’ve never seen you like this before,

your body stretched

along the nerves of the pine wood,

your arms raised in surrender

to a ruin,

embracing the wooden halo flaming up above your head.

Suffering in these mountains

clearly needs no cross.