Easters

The cloth Christ

hangs from the

peg on the wall.

My voice is in a vault.

God gave me the gift,

and he holds the key.

If I ever speak again,

my voice will be an Easter.

I am cold.

God’s son will warm me.

Lent falls off my life

Like a damp towel.

The vault door opens.

My singing rises in

praise of the risen.

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