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A poem in honor of Good Friday:

Matthew 27:52

When the sepulchers ruptured

And expelled cadavers haltingly

To strut their shrouded knees and elbows forth,

Those ashen eyes did not perceive the stars above

Or in what orbit Venus moved

While the moon obscured the sun.

This exalted carrion chased instead the gale

Along the streets and roads of

Jerusalem’s outer quarter,

To engage the startled rabble,

Before the squall released its puppet’s grip

And let them fall clattering upon

Once-familiar thresholds and passageways,

Bearing—before startled eyes—brief witness

To the passing of the medial swain,

Who dangled on a tree between two thieves.

John Farrell

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