From 'Perspectives' also avaliable from Askif press

The cloak of pain
MICHAEL MULLER

There was weeping when the child
donned the cloak of pain:
the curse of generation,
as we leave it, it remains;
pursuing us down bloodline,
intangible but real,
so following the shadow-scent,
it dogged the child's heel.
For the child cast a shadow as it flew
and falling through the heavens
into flesh, was made anew.
So its people swaddled it
and hid away its nakedness,
with drooping hood,
long sleeve and ragged hem;
its motion clumsy,
and its face was never seen again.