A Prayer for Easter, #105

On this day I pray,
whether you’re inclined
to believe the sun
has come out along
with the equinox,
a new day rising,
or led by your heart
of hearts to believe
that three days have passed
and a new savior
has risen, or led
to believe merely
in hollow chocolate
and Cadbury eggs,
I wish unto you
a hunger, constant
emptying belly,
a hole in the space
where you wish to store
your awful stories
in hard bound copies,
your old libraries,
their basements draining
after each new book,
the latest sermon
or the next in-depth
interview on the
nightly news that leaves
you always devoid
of understanding,
newly ignorant,
grumbling for more,
what you know passing
quickly into want
to always know more.

On this day I pray
you be led out
into the hunt by
a curiosity
driven to equal
your hunger, a need
to peer down into
each nook and cranny,
under each lampshade,
niches in each wall
to spot the painted
eggshells of knowledge
that conceal and
reveal themselves
at precise moments,
be they quotable
wisdom of co-workers,
strange congruities
in fortune cookies,
or scrolls of ancient
text in dresser drawers
beside you. And more
importantly, may
you not be taken
in by pastel paints,
the roar of the hunt,
the foofy dresses
and goofy bowties,
nor the stuffed baskets,
nor the sweet bunnies,
but crack the eggshells
open to reveal
a sublime clarity
and behind that
a nutritious yolk.

On this day I pray,
most of all, for all
us to be willing
to die, and to drive
nails through the souls
of all that we love,
to crack cornerstones
on the foundations
of our homes, to lay,
arms askew, open
to the knowledge that lies
ahead, that today
lies buried in hearts,
behind the blood walls
of clogged arteries
which will be cleared by
the acts of fellowship,
of leadership, acts
of cooperation
and of defiance
which are yet to come,
that each of us be
proud to tie ourselves
to truth at the cost
of all we have worked
our lives for, to give
life to a young world,
and that we are, with
openness, able
to drive nails through
the wrists of the first
of us to taste truth,
so they may give birth
to the bright colors
of a new warm day.

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A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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