Mark Shea’s Blog About Stuff

It is for all‘literalists of the imagination,’poets or not,that miracleis possible and essential.Are some intricate mindsnourished on concept,as epiphytes flourishhigh in the canopy?Can theysubsist on

Easter. The grave clothes of winterare still here, but the sepulchreis empty. A messengerfrom the tomb tells ushow a stone has been rolledfrom the mind,

Desdichado —This is the heir; come let us kill him.—Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning on her Beloved?Christ walks the world

Make no mistake: if He rose at allit was as His body;if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the moleculesreknit, the amino acids rekindle,the Church

(A Resurrection Poem in Pidgin English)by Funmilola Awogbade Dem put am for tomb, lock am wella,Dem tink say na di end be dat. But early