The Faithful Son
With Faith I walk in this valley of chanting figures,
My life dripping from my skin.
Every step burns, I leave a trail of red.
My feet are imprinted with scripture;
My fate is written, etched into the very ground I fall upon.
My splintering twinge is draped upon my head;
I am king of my father’s children.
Father I carry you children’s sin;
I walk with lashes on my back,
Gashes on my knees and Faith in my heart.
I see many judging me but I judge none.
I seek not to flee from them,
For I must take upon me their impurities.
Give them the Faith I have and give me their suffering, but
Father I am Faithful to the end.
By: Edgar Guajardo