Wherein Obscurely

Only Bread, Only light

Why this compulsion to write?

Misericordia. Upright
And nursing our wounds.

Surely we’ve inhaled
Some of God.

Tsuris, vespers…

And the candles
Cold as glass…

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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