There is no glamor to this silent nail
That pierces through the soul.
No one sees and no one knows
The blood that stains the heart.
But lo, this aching, iron spike
Is the same nail driven through.
The same unyielding, secret nail
That held Him to the Cross.
Many saw, but no one knew,
This hidden tack of love.
The one that kept him hanging there
It keeps me hanging too.
April, 2023.
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