The Snowflakes of Jerusalem

In that vale of tears the mice in the cornfields, the rabbits 
       in their nether holes, all ran from the pain of man.
That pain was unfamiliar to them, shadowed cross of a human hand, 
Internal register of the mark of Cain, escaping through hell’s gate – 
But know the jungle was not wider than, its breadth was not unruled.
 
There was a birth, and a season in the Temple teaching, 
       a time long enough,
And then a death in the skull’s garden. 
A three days death, before a forever leaping. 
Now the mice peep through the sockets of the grave’s bone.
The rabbits hear the Gospel in Winter’s crypt.
The tears of men fall as the diamonds of the highest crystal.

2 comments

  1. a time long enough for that leaping…

    Mark,

    The miracle is ever new, thank God, and it seems the tears
    are unending. You have found a new way to share the story.
    Bravo!

    Sarah

    Like

  2. MSS

    “But know … its breadth was not unruled” is about the subtlest reference to God I’ve come across. It could easily be missed in a poem where the attention is all drawn towards the Son.

    Dullard that I am, it’s taken me many reads to get anything like a feel towards this. (From this side of the world, when I first read the word ‘snowflake’ I thought it might be about liberals!) Yet maybe there’s something in that … the incarnation offering an incipient sense courage — the peeping and the hearing — but not yet outright strength …

    Okay. Enough of my jibber-jabber. Point is it’s been haunting me.

    Hope you’re not suffering too much under the snowflakes of Philadelphia!

    Abraços,

    MAH

    Like

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