Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Beyond Me, This Empty Grave

So many of the people I love and admire
Pass lightly to and fro between dimensions,
Parting filmy curtains as if between rooms.

I seem a gardener for them,
Kneeling, kneading the stone,
Up to elbows in lime and sand,
Seeking a lost circuit
Mankind could use for a garden light
In setting sun,
In setting cement.

"Where have you put him?" they ask,
Meaning Jesus.

1 comment:

  1. Early this morning a photographer friend posted a photo of a window with a white curtain wafting in the breeze. I was touched by the scene and wrote a post based on this...a glimpse of my grandmother's bedroom. A glimpse of my grandmother...and more. I sent the post to the photographer for his approval. Then read your latest. I've received two gifts in one day.