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Easter Poems:

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


Neither flesh

Nor spirit

This descent of


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.”

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