Grave Clothes

Darkness. Where the world
Unravels from its swaddling bands of
Doing. Seeking air from underneath
The lines of cable, Internet and motorway.
While string of inter-nodal street lights
Continue a resistance to the healing dark.

Thus mummified, we’re doomed to
Roam the surface of the world,
Noisily, in pain, to no true purpose.

In the night, in dormant stillness,
God still speaks the resurrection words:
"Lazarus! Come forth!"
Harmony emerges with each sunrise,
Heard in birdsong, and the breathing earth.

Presently the human race will wake, and
Go about its business, that of
Wrapping up the world again, supposing it is
Being good. Maybe, while it applies yet
further binding, wondering how anyone can
Think there is a God.

Ann R Parker

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