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The Shroud

I am in the light. Do not spare me for I am not suffering. I am in the capsule. I am in the lion’s maw. I am in the water. I am in the tunnels. I am the God that sees signs. I am the priestess that reads the signs. I am immune. Untouchable. The language hides me. Beyond the words I am evil. I am the crushed skull under the rock. I am mercy. I am the deed that it played out. I’ve shed blood and I am the blood. I am the one that witness the deed and I am the deed. It was I that buried the body. It was I that forgot the popsicle stick with the teeth prints as evidence. The danger was always there. They find it. I cut the piece of grass from her body and from the earth. Lifted it like a fragment of heaven; green and tender. It was never blue. The heaven is the earth, mud. I put the shrine in the hole of earth. The shrine with the relics, hairs, the dust from the body, and milk tooth. I put sticks of wood in infinite crosses adjacent to each other. There the body were never recovered. I put

200x120 CM

"I cut the piece of grass from her body and from the earth. Lifted it like a fragment of heaven; green and tender. It was never blue. The heaven is the earth." - Peter Björsmo

© 2025 Karin Steneby

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