Easter Morning

a stone at dawn
cold water in the basin
these walls' rough plaster
imageless
after the hammering
of so much insistence
on the need for naming
after the travesties
that passed as faces,
grace: the unction
of sheer nonexistence
upwelling in this
hyacinthine freshet
of the unnamed
the faceless

Original text by AMY CLAMPITT
© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

Share:

No comments:

Featured Post

Kitchen Mishmash

All our words are but crumbs that fall from the feast of our mind. Khalil Gibran With Thanksgiving just a few weeks away — a...

Latest Comments

Contact Form

Name

Email *

Message *