My God,
My benevolent tether,
My rope made of
Wavering faith –

How I dangle
This chain of reason
With a cross
At its lowest point,

And engage
Such doubtful bliss
For the times
I never can wear it

While believing
In sacrifice certain
Like thread
Having gorgeous appeal.

How that bondage
Offers us gifts
And portrays new hope
Which shimmers

Below these throats
Left choking
From their thirst
For divinity’s drink –

Christ’s tears
As suffering rains
Cascading life
Beyond sadness

Yet conquering fear
Through disaster
Where judgment kills
What remains

Of impending death
Seeming free
When existence binds
More clearly

Since experience hurts
More than endings
Only final
If questioning hell,

Knowing heaven
Must balance all grief
Endured each day
Digging gemstones

Or adorning jewels
Holding meaning
Hardly felt
But often assured.

• J. Pigno