The caress of light on my skin hurts. So I turn away. But the shadows' silence Screams through the bones of my skull. And I turn from them too. The thread-thin path beneath my feet Cuts in; lending tremors to the liquid heaviness felt Through each nerve. And so I kneel, but even that Pains my spine and corsets my lungs. Bent, hobbled, Tortured by the silver tracks of tears Slicing my cheeks. I wait.