Grace

Lazarus jewel box
open wider than
the angelus air.

I fly kneeling
on a magic rug
seashell eyes
blind to grace.

Murmuring
magnificat Mary Mary
flying toward Jordan
and the sweet bye and bye,
further along.

But tell me,
(beloved stranger)
haven’t you been
dark like that?
(As I have?)
The stone rolled across
the way you came?

And didn’t a bird,
like a tender white hand,
alight at a window
you didn’t realize was open?

– Kay Winter

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