Stark Lines
Resurrection
Pain cannot contrive for you
Humility beyond your own,
Stripped of your body to the bone.
Passion will not phrase anew
A fabric more than skeletal
To veil the candor of your skull.
Fire and anger let you rest;
The wind comes where your lips are mute,
Blowing a labyrinthine flute
Out of the caverns of your breast.
Fire and agony depart
From fallen ashes of a heart.
This is the kingdom that you find
When the brave empty eye-holes stare
Impartially against the air;
A little universe defined
By infinite white ribs for bars
Against the struggles of the stars.
This is the power that you hold
Over these worlds of splintered sand:
Your crystal framework of a hand
Can crumple space in hollow cold,
And your small broken fingers roll
The seven heavens in a scroll.
This is the glory that you have:
A broad sun standing overhead
To shape a halo for your head;
Skies wheel and laugh above a grave
To worship, in the fields of breath,
Inviolable lovely Death.
Symbols for the celebrant
Are your sharp and silver feet,
Syllables he shall repeat;
So your light bones lie aslant
The mystical and sacred sun
Infinity in skeleton.
