"Easter has less to do with one person's escape from the grave than with the victory of seemingly powerless love over loveless power" --Bill Coffin
Flags now drape Easter’s unknown tomb
strapped `round rock
with metal’s twisted brooch,
sorrow stains the air
where steel spikes pierced hands and feet
slinging hope like a missile
out its cage of a valiant plot
into the mislaid reaches of cruelty.
Why must the sycophantic
heave and lick the powerless air
in death’s dark tongue?
stand silent on dead-end streets
awaiting hope to unravel,