Today's poem is by Christine DeSimone
The trouble with miracles is there's no way to prepare.
It's easy to be someone who converts water into wine,
but other days call out like an unexpected chorefour days of walking,
a cry to God, an unforgiving crowd fed only by promises awaiting
Your mighty shout. So when You finally woke Lazarus with just a lift of the eyes,
well, I'd have cried toofor the gaudy cave, for the elusive mechanics
that pull souls from the dark, for the pity rising in Your friends' faces
like over-leavened bread, for even the will to push at darkness
with only the wind in Your throat.
Copyright © 2007 Christine DeSimone All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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