Feast of the Annunciation
(March 25)
Proud, sullen world
The great hour
Comes closer
The latch about
To be lifted
The door about to open
This hour of light and dust
In Nazareth
Gabrielle steps
Across the threshold, says
“Fear not, Mary!”
But it is the angel who is afraid
Of Her silence
The rush into Her womb
Then, the trembling
Gabrielle can no longer look
Upon Her flushed face
Leaves her
In the world’s most
Solitary hour
When only She knows
This smallest tremor
Alone in Her womb
God’s Golden Seed
Of humility
Easter Sunday
Now death is
In collision
With life
His ripped
Palms and feet
Luminous
Neither flesh
Nor spirit
This descent of
Love
This sudden spark
Which leaped
This day
It is the world
Guttering like a
Dying candle
Now transparent
All smoke and
Smoldering dreams
Both poems are from Philomene Long’s “Book of Hours.”
