the disrupting peace
Harvey S. Mozolak
our last words
chiseled in dead silent rock
something about resting
when
Lazarus comes bounding
from the tomb
streaming bindings
resurrection’s unwindings
strangling death
gagging the soundless
rousing with the Lord’s word
our stone cold nature
shreds of time
Harvey S. Mozolak
left like pencil shavings
swirls from the mute grave sentence
the cloths that covered him
unwrapped his hands and steps now write
there is more
that meets the closing eyes
an awakening word
that earth cannot cover
and contain by blunted breath
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