More on: Lazarus

I. – He must have hopped. How else could he have come —–out, as they tell us, with his hands and feet —–bound? and the loud voice ordering the winding-sheet —–to be dismantled, and the residuum —–of grief being wiped away? We live with this —–clown of a body, Brother Ass. We wipe —–the faeces…

She wants to believe he clung to death, that the sweetness of the light that took him soaked him until he was fat with gladness, that bringing him back to the dark cave, making him breathe through oil-soaked cloth, pushing life back into his stiffened fingers and toes, that calling him with a siren’s voice…

The light said stand, the cave said sleep. The cave said look, here are the eyes that mocked you, the hands that cast you out, said sleep, your sisters need their grief. The light said rise, step out of your sorrows, let them follow only if you choose. The light said choose. Because the light…