From the far star points of his pinned extremities,
cold inched in—black ice and blood ink—
till the hung flesh was empty. Lonely in that void
even for pain, he missed his splintered feet,
the human stare buried in his face.
He ached for two hands made of meat
he could reach to the end of.
In the corpse's core, the stone fist of his heart
Began to bang on the stiff chestâs door,
and breath spilled back into that battered shape. Now
it’s your limbs he longs to flow into—
from the sunflower center in your chest
outward--as warm water
shatters at birth, rivering every way.
From Sinners Welcome (HarperCollins, 2006).
Reprinted with permission.
Descending Theology: The Resurrection
More: Poems
The latest from america
“Inside the Vatican” host Colleen Dulle shares how her visit to Argentina gave her a deeper understanding into Francis’ emphasis on “being amongst the people” and his belief that “you can’t do theology behind a desk.”
Christians who have lived in Nagorno-Karabakh for 2,000 years are being driven out by Azerbaijan. Will world leaders act?
The problem is not that TikTok users feel disappointed about the potential loss of an entertaining social platform; it is that many young people see a ban on TikTok as the end of, or at least a major disruption to, their social life.
Two new Broadway productions cast these two towering figures in sharp relief.
I enjoyed "Lit" and "The Liar's Club," and I'll have to read more of Ms. Karr's poetry.