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Easter Morning in Brighton Beach

Here is a deep think poem form me friend deep thinking Mounce! Have a Read!

Christ lies
broken bones
protruding, off the shoreline.

blackened bones,
whose smoulderings
fill up this wetly Easter dawn.

A kindly Irish man
who draws us in with smiles
and still-warm seasonal buns,
who could be Christ

and us his splinterings
sitting with our grateful splinters,

while the rain’s gentle onslaught
turns our sheets to limp ash.

Conch curled

Before the sleep where dreams may come
I did not know the weight of things,
nor my own longing
to be pressed in on all sides
by the eternal sea;

before he woke me up.

If you lift me up to your ear
You may note the roaring of water.

Now I know the hymns I sing;

once mythological in breadth –
gods chasing suns with flaming swords,

beasts fossilized
under ancient, terrified sediment,
fallowing up through leagues of ocean,
teams of demons.

Phoetally spiralling

and held by the text of stones;
stones rolled and stones thrown.

Can you muster all your strength to volt your stone
and show yourself,
Know Thyself?

This, then, is also one of the commandments.

April 2012

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