Week’s First Day

Poem

This virgin chamber
like rock-hollowed stable
is a briefly borrowed room.
The table chisled
to lay linen-wrapped dead
today becomes a birthing bed.
Earth travails. A shudder
breaks sealed silence
of womb-dark tomb.
Like lightning attending angels
split death’s gloom
to witness this Resurrection morn—
the cavern’s mouth is opened.
The triumphant King is born!

Notes

 

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