Easter
Easter occupies the realm
ordinarily reserved for poetry
Only its believers prefer
the term mystery
A place where faith is not certainty
but hope is the consolation
Where a light unveils everything
we otherwise choose not see
Where the pale old man in the pew
cachectic and frail
Receives his final blessings
neither yes or no, false or true
Any poet who visits this cathedral
fancies himself a theologian
If death cannot destroy love
then what does it matter
If there is a return of the flesh?
4/20/26
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