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

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