I Cross...

If anyone wants to come after me,
let him  deny himself,

Radical surrender,

Becoming the bridge,

A turning point...

I did not paint a symbol,  

I painted a memory.  

A wound that learned to shine,  

A question shaped in wood.  

This cross is not a plea alone—  

It’s my whisper to the silence,  

My fire stitched in quiet lines,  

My hope, refusing to fold.