Not for Publication
(I've been writing of how to find common celebrations across different beliefs, a good and worthy search. And, now, let's give voice to the other side: when commonality isn't appropriate.)
are not meant to be shared.
Mysteries require mist.
Redwood groves only thrive
where they are regularly bathed
No one saw
the power that rolled
away the stone
except the one
If you were that one,
slipping from the shroud,
would you walk to the village smiling,
sharing the news?
Are we to speak of such things?
Today’s concrete village
is weary from epiphanies.
Your sweet-skinned lover,
aligned with a different astronomy,
perhaps does not feel the gravitational shift
of this great rock that moved in the graveyard you left behind.
Still, it moves.
So, you remain in that graveyard garden
for a time.
No need to call a crowd.
Take in the dim mystery of 4:27am
with fog moistening thy heart.
Then quietly return home and climb into bed,
smiling, sodden, snuggling close
to the mystery beside you.