My face broke long ago.
For ages I lived without my face,
could not cry,
because my eyes were broken too.
Mirrors grew dumb,
locked their worlds away.
My face shattered,
the universe quaked,
my face shattered
and my heart heard the steps of the frost approaching
but refused to resist.
It said: break me, as you did the face,
but spray me like rays of love
where coldness, darkness and flagellation prevail.
Plant my remains in the desert
then the miracle will come to pass,
plant my remains in the desert
then the sand will bear lilies and jasmine.
Sprinkle my blood around the edges of the wound
and through my wounds I will become balsam.

Translated by the authoress and John Wilmot