what stones leave. a maundy thursday poem.

when the fullness of despair is
resurrected
it’s possible for the whole of creation to
laud and praise
while others linger in the shadowed emptiness
wringing
their hands over the stone which
held
their grief in check now
rolled away and pain
split
wide open. “Freedom!” the masses
exclaim
while others search for it in the cold dank corners of
exposed
tombs where the real
miracle
is that light reaches those desolate places
still

*****

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Beyond the ridiculous: a Christmas poem

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He
sent a star
not a
word
from the wise man
but a sign from the
heavens
from the only place
only
One
is capable of lasso-ing
fire

He
sent a star
single
certain
bright

but we must look
up
on bended knee
up
out of our ridiculous view
of our miry flatlands
to see the
illumination
of

Truth

Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” (Matthew 2:2 NIV)