“the quality of mercy”
is a fierce and terrible beauty...
it hungers in its waiting
then consumes our darkest brokenness
even as it invites us to its table

prayer as archeology
i brush away the dirt
then
slowly small things which were once lost
rise out of the earth of my memory
then awake under the spade of silence

a new orleans’ liturgy for easter sunday
jackson square
people gather
a juggler works the crowd
as the traffic pulses into morning
music burns bright on every corner
intense as the torches
he tosses in his hands