And yet…: Good Friday poetry

iv-horton-161649-unsplash

photo by IV Horton via Unsplash

Yes, there’s a day for suffering,

for marking love’s dark mien.

Contorted faces bearing the cost of contingency and time.

There’s no reason to the grief,

there’s no cause for any tear.

Even the call to Private Ryan–Earn this!–

can’t elevate the squalor of our deaths.

We all end

in ridiculous deformations

of our former selves.

Whatever potency we pretend to

is buried with us in the grave.

So nail it up there for us to see.

Splay us on a tree with righteous indignity.

Reveal us for what we are–

rank imposters after glory.

And yet…

–Alex Joyner

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s