Good Friday (poem)

Today I remember
The days we broke:
Our betrayals
And our many deaths.

Our litany of a thousand cuts
Perversely praised pain:
We were poured out
On the dust.

Divinity summons particles
Nestled among the sand
Soaked into the silt:
And we rise again
Not the same,
But broken seeds
Not tomorrow,
But soon.

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