The Amputation
A poem
What was it I had done that led to this? My arms were severed at the joint, scabbing but still bloody. "I thank you," I began, "I thank you all, who come to watch, and maybe mock a little, too." For who can keep ridicule in his heart, and bear his own diminishment, but one who moves, though slowly, toward God?

Wow. I want to know more. I have so many questions from these arresting images, but I love the control.