Easter 2016

Rise up, oh Christ

In the middle of my days

Rise up from where I buried you

And break the strata of the year.

 

Crack the easy hills

End all my neat topography

They are made green and fertile

By what is buried underneath.

 

Wipe away my careful maps

The lines that mark false nations

With invented histories

And names that mean nothing.

 

Rise up, oh Christ,

And cast me from my throne

Break the earth in seven pieces

And leave not a one for me.

 

For when my world is ended

And the king in me is dead

I would have nothing for my portion

But my hand held in yours.


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