Throughout these otherwise gloomy centuries
Songs and tales were passed,
Like jasper and amethyst in paper cups,
From the mouths of parents to the hearts of
children.
Orally, now, we take things;
Then, they were given.
I write this in a panicked scrabbling of
Flurried fingers and nails
Clicking against keys.
The Visitatio
Sepulchri was
Kept sacredly,
Covered heads bowing
Reverently before an awed angel.
Smooth, the continuation of tradition;
Holy, the preservation of revelation;
Sweet as manna, gold as flax, rich as a Jew.
No comments:
Post a Comment