Friday, February 25, 2005

Lamentation and Resurrection

by Zinta Aistars

to my son Markus on his 22nd birthday

Your eyes shine with hope
even as you deny it –
how quickly we erect the veneer,
wrap ourselves in ever thicker
and tougher hides,
walls constructed of hardened chips
of broken heart and cheated soul.
Spirit sandpapered down
to a smooth sheen,
your eyes wander a horizon
you’ve come to believe unreachable.
Still, it’s there: that pale glimmer
of light preserved, stubborn
in its beauty, not releasing,
a heart that wraps like a fist
around its nugget of gold –
a faith that will prove
you wrong, shake the dust
from your hidden reveries,
kiss them soundly on the mouth,
and wake the charmed princess
from her restless slumber.
Drive the knight inside you
clamoring for the chink
in its armor, proof of your humanity,
to place newly baptized heart
boldly on white sleeve,
bruised but whole,
believing again.

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