"Day of Trial"
The Easter winds are swinging the palms
Dusting off the sky,
Sweeping the earth with its memories
Of Golgotha's sighs,
The tears of three Mary's
And eleven soaking in the solemn crime.
My little and dense soul reaches for Jerusalem
Long ago in an Easter prayer,
Deepening myself in the soil of repentance
And in Calvary's fare.
Ah, the forgiving wind lifts the vagrant
Poverty I've worn through Christ's addendum
Glory!
Glory!
Glory!
Blow sweet Easter gale and dress me whole,
Disperse my gray vestige
Into light. His tombless greatness
Let be my prestige.
Sweep over me like a ransom's rest
And let no treason of mine be retold!
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