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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