“Holy Saturday”

Holy Saturday Mount Moriah
Holy Saturday
Mount Moriah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

light within the cusp of sound,
you to whom we lift our caring,
cup of morn and husk of grain,
crossing yours to sanctuary.

bending arc to curve your trace,
shadowed ceiling low its bearing,
torn the veil that hid me you,
gap to close and echo carry.

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