Resurrection
Wood, bone, steel,
are easier to bend
than the unseen.
At least this is how she felt.
No wall,
no gate,
no line marked clearly
in dead, brown dirt.
Yet the boundaries were
claimed long ago,
and the consequences,
outlined in the eyes
of fatherless children
and the creases
of blood caked knuckles
woven tightly around
broken wooden beads.
Our Father’s
whispered in remorse
can’t reclaim immaculacy
or breathe life
into an aborted chest.
Inscribed doors
sway open,
attempting to reclaim
a wayward soul,
but persecuting eyes,
form unyielding barriers.
The reflection of
stained glass colored
her skin long ago.
The circling stations,
familiar faces murmur
Sunday morning’s story
of pink and pearl.
As a child,
she could recite all their songs,
but now mouth
can’t form tune.
© 2010 Katrina K Guarascio
Water Rises
Sometimes
water rises
levees break
floods erupt
sometimes
it’s slow
invisible to the eye
yet
apparent
creeping up your leg
pulling a run into a slow motion walk
waist deep
shoulder
neck
just above the break
sometimes
we drown
the smallest puddles
sometimes oceans
rip through
consume
enclose
crush
leaves us cling like seaweed
still on the vein
sometimes water rises
sometimes it’s easier
to stand still
and let it pull us down
Very nice work. A delicate touch at a time when just the opposite seems to be the vogue. Here you can hear piano keys tinkling.