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He has risen, from death's cold grasp released,
A dawn of hope, where darkness ceased.
Upon the horizon, where light anew,
Breaks the night, in hues so true.

From the tomb, where once he lay,
He has risen on this glorious day.
A miracle woven in the sacred text,
A story of love, complex, yet reflexive.

The stone rolled away, an empty grave,
He has risen, almighty to save.
In the hearts of the faithful, a joyous song,
A testament of where they belong.

In gardens of prayer, where whispers rise,
He has risen, beyond the skies.
A beacon of faith, of love divine,
In His resurrection, a holy sign.

Through trials and tribulations, we find our way,
He has risen, to guide the fray.
In His footsteps, a path we seek,
A strength in moments, when we are weak.

He has risen, let the earth proclaim,
In every whisper of His name.
A promise of eternal life, a sacred gift,
In His rising, our spirits lift.

So let the bells of Easter ring,
He has risen, let the choirs sing.
A celebration of life, of the victory won,
In His resurrection, a new day begins.
 Feb 26 Chuck Kean
ketjil
You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt
a somewhat older poem
:)
I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Lightly my fingers rest on the letters
hoping to coax  out of them
a lyric or a prayer to end this day.
I love these letters
who open the universe,
who touch the cheek of God
and fall here like shooting stars
or small planets
for you to see.

I miss a stone and step into the shallow stream
like a child hoping for an adventure
from his misstep into the clear water
where he can fall into the sky
and ride a cloud to Odessa
Pikes Peak or north to the Cascades.

I remember when the soles of my feet
were calloused from running across lawns
sidewalks and streets to play
ball or adventure into the nearby field
where we fashioned a fort our of tall sticky ****
and made up rules for initiation into our club.

What a life I find in these letters
who surrender to my touch so easily
what a symphony to match the music of Mahler
coming across the net falling here into my ears
like undeserved grace.
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