On miracles
You lay me in the dust of death my darling,
Nazareth behind us and our weary
Bethlehem a dripping candle
wax dousing these shoulders like a cloak
and shawl a dirt beneath
our fingernails. A burdened skin of Palestine,
Your confidence baptism, Your weeping pores announcing
blood and sweat,
each iris the shade of Eden
of stardust and quiet places
Your glory is here, beside us. A pleading Martha,
a beckoning Mary, that through our Lazarus
palms stretched taut from attrition
You lay me in the dust of death my darling,
Nazareth behind us and our weary
Bethlehem a dripping candle
wax dousing these shoulders like a cloak
and shawl a dirt beneath
our fingernails. A burdened skin of Palestine,
Your confidence baptism, Your weeping pores announcing
blood and sweat,
each iris the shade of Eden
of stardust and quiet places
Your glory is here, beside us. A pleading Martha,
a beckoning Mary, that through our Lazarus
palms stretched taut from attrition