when the gulf fritillary caterpillar is ready to shed his skin and entomb himself in a cocoon, he drops off his thorny flesh. this diminutive circle of thorns at the head of this peter-like caterpillar, coupled with my longing to see him just once more, is where the inspiration for this piece came.
i imagine as Jesus was being let down from treacherous heights, his body bloodied and near unrecognizable, that mary would have stretched forth her hand to remove the one instrument of pain she could. to allow his head to rest flat in the tomb. i imagine she would have carried it with her unwittingly, gripping it, driving it deeper into her own flesh without even noticing until she got home. she would of course clean it, and perhaps keep it rather than abandon something still bloodied and flecked with grey matter, of one she loves. i do not think she could leave it.
piercing cruelty
mocking disdain
what do i do
with you now
who mingle
our blood
wash with tears
spiked crown
precious
is
the blood
of my love
my Lord
my friend
sealed in stone
i cannot go to Him
my eyes cannot embrace
the one i love
nor my hand
stretch forth
to feed Him
this cruel crown
now pierces me
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