Sure is that yourself, one prisoner asked Him, one young man with his hair down to his shoulders and his face eaten by hunger and with black eyes, is that yourself, he says to a space next to the priest, to an invisible presence, and he reaches out, in silence, to touch Himself on the head. This is an old one, lags, Christ Jayzus says to I’s, in the voice of a priest in H3, so stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before. Two old muckers, Pat and Mick, are on their holidays in New York, in the USA, in heaven’s blessed eternity, and Pat says to Mick, all in the voice of Christ Jayzus who is risen up like the moon on the wall of a chapel in the H Block, the sun blaring out of the heavens and Pat and Mick hold their hands up to the sun, as in The Maze we lived in the time of The Bible and were visited by pestilence and plague, by maggots that seemed to crawl out ( ) from through the walls, as if The Maze itself was the rotting, suffering word-made-flesh, do you think that’s the same sun we saw in the Ardoyne, Pat says to Mick, the same sun sat up there in the sky throughout the whole shooting match, and Mick says, sure I’ve no idea, Pat, let’s ask someone, and the first person they meet is speaking the word that is the redeemer of the blind pain at the centre of the world, and Mick says to him, excuse me but you wouldn’t happen to know whether that sun up there is the same sun we saw in the Ardoyne all those years ago, which is the voice of Christ Jayzus and he says, sorry, lags, as we ran the gamut of the guards on the way back from mass, which was when we took a beating, every Sunday, when even Christ Jayzus Himself was unprepared to follow us out of the chapel and along the endless corridors and into the empty cells where they would hold I’s up by the arms and legs and they would kick I’s and punch I’s and tear at I’s bodies, sorry, lags, but I wouldn’t know if that’s the same sun you saw in the Ardoyne, is the voice of Christ Jayzus, you see, he says, I’m a stranger here myself, and he takes his hand from the cross and he wipes a single tear from his pale white cheek and in his palm there is a hole in his hand, there is a delicate little labia in the hands of the suffering Christ and he says to I’s, listen, lags, Christ Jayzus says to I’s, don’t give way to wonder, I will pick out your eyes you bastards, in H3, in The Maze, is the sacred heart, closer, brave boys, to the battlefield, and enters History, as a word.