Holding the life-size cross aloft Sister Eloise fell.
Another swabbed her broken heels as two words
continued to clash with the ritual drumbeats.
Would these have been her last, she would die.
Sweat soaked her habit. An interpreter leaned
toward a concerned chieftan's ear. He nodded.
And running forward, he lifted her, saying words
she could not at all understand --
Why are you killing yourself to tell us this thing?
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --