...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Saturday, March 26, 2016

46. Some Stanzas Written on Holy Saturday

It’s quiet. Doors are shut against the noise
of planes overhead.
The house without the sound of boys
proclaims our lord
is dead.


A woman I know explained she worked in a home
for disabled men.
As if it were a catacomb,
they stayed inside
their den.


We wait and weep, how long we cannot say--
Except that the term
demands we hope and try to pray
for what we can’t

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