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By Pádraig J. Daly Poetry

If she had said, No, The world would not have stopped: Birds would have flown high still into sky, The heavens would have proclaimed his glory And the firmament the work of his hands. We would have gone on reproving him, Unaware of how deeply down His love might plunge into our affliction, Unaware of…

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Medieval Miniatures: The Entombment

By Dan Murphy Poetry

from The Book of Hours, 1440 The painter has left a whole corner empty, squeezed the painting into the top half of a diagonal. How gently they lay His body, His face crooked from pain. Nicodemus lifts Him below the knees. Joseph of Arimathea fixing the shoulders to rest, his chin holding Christ’s haloed head…

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Medieval Miniatures: Entry into Jerusalem

By Dan Murphy Poetry

Someone always climbs a tree When a saint arrives—half- Way marker of earth and sky: You can’t get there from here. But this is how we represent Desire for liberation, human form As flag announcing spirit through Flesh. That boy reaches for a bird or palm, The top part of the tree where branches break…

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Easter 2009

By Garret Keizer Poetry

“Who will roll away the stone?” What is “To be or not to be” compared to that question? Or Pilate’s “What is truth”? Even Jesus’s own “Whom do men say that I am”? Who will roll away the stone, the weight that looms in the way, not of resurrection— the women had no hope of…

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