Passion Week
 
Distant skies thunder in anticipation of reasoning
Scriptures. Flying east, west, the sorrow, the pain,
and returning to failstorm’s safe home of rapture.
 
Ha! They ask ha! They know not, they beg not,
they see some distant knowledge of themselves
long ago dismayed revelation.
 
The heart’s distant clatter of ears contrivance
to all and asunder. Highest powerful seeing,
the gift beyond all time in freedom given.
 
Hark to knowledge, hark to understanding, hark to
beauty, but glide above life’s dissections,
render not too much heart on life’s illusions.
 
The owl’s cry, the sparrow’s flutter, the icy night
of winter’s dreams, turned to golden day,
all resting all moving towards this warmth
of love and life, the light of heaven which is you.
-Patri Beckett-