Jesu Crystal

I too was born from a virgin womb. Whether its wisdom or pathos that comes from a child mother, I still do not know. And I still am the large-eyed angry child and she is still the laughing girl, a crying mother.

Fortune brings me away from the mysticism of those early years, but my Maria of the angels remains as she always was… a distant bird, a bleeding martyr, and the source of my comfort and desperation.

Many mornings your warm hands molded fettle. You weaved my hair into tight ropes; cool and smooth strands of great Tahitian pearls. Digging your knuckles deep into my scalp, you sculpted courage from that sticky wet pulp.

But some nights your tears would dissolve those pearls… and they'd return to black waters.