Poetry

My Father Returns as a Luna Moth; A Happy Childhood; Blackout Good Friday Night; Elegy of Mixed Feelings


Blackout Good Friday Night

Blackout Good Friday night,
wind and sizzling dusk
crackling and draining,
no light.

Saplings lopped off,
old trees toppled
on the ragged
mandala of their roots.

The friends of Jesus in their grief pit
had no idea that they were only waiting.
The dawn was rising
underfoot.

Living by candlelight, cursing the darkness,
we are not lost but only waiting,
already fast asleep when the lights
come back on blazing.