06-22-2021, 01:31 PM
The Way of the Righteous
When I was dying, my heart called out
Why, my Lord,
but you cut me off.
And out of the desert country rose
flowerlike a seat of domes
that in its imposition seemed
eager to consume the sun,
floods that washed away the sandÂ
like you washed feet,
streams that carved their way through rock
like you tore veils,
trees that were born of fossil seeds
like you raised the dead,
and (as if invited by your placid
gaze) a dusty wind that blew through the church
and scraped away your face---
were you gone so long?
When I was dying, my heart called out
Why, my Lord,
but you cut me off.
And out of the desert country rose
flowerlike a seat of domes
that in its imposition seemed
eager to consume the sun,
floods that washed away the sandÂ
like you washed feet,
streams that carved their way through rock
like you tore veils,
trees that were born of fossil seeds
like you raised the dead,
and (as if invited by your placid
gaze) a dusty wind that blew through the church
and scraped away your face---
were you gone so long?