This weekend they walk highways to Chimayo
in remembrance of the pilgrimage of weeping
bitter persistent exertion inside of hope
with hail mary candles
and seventy mile an hour winds
Silent brothers will walk their sorrow, 10, 20 or 100 miles,
with scapular medals pressed against their hearts
beating chests of soldier relics and the passion
in the beads strung at their wrists, kind rosaries
too many to count, the colors of resurrection
hung on sacred dirt and straw walls
or wrapped around the courtyard's patient sentinel cross
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