Mar 24 2008
Resurrection Sunday
A walk across the Potomac at dawn wth my son and grandaughter inspired this poem.
“Resurrection Sunday”
Potomac is flat and dark
This morning - could hardly tell
The tomb is empty.
Yes - Resurrection Sunday,
Though sun is not yet risen
I can almost hear the chants
Proclaim this mystery
From chapels built deep in rock
Across the river - smell incense,
Prayers of praise lofted
High to hasten the light.
While some slumber tight,
Enraptured in dream eddies
Slipper-ed soft in carpet behind
Stone edifices of wealth.
Save me for the brisk breeze
That sweeps across the water and
Awakens to this rising sun.
