Two Days

by Ann Boaden


The sky closes
like a case
this Holy Saturday
not the drama
of darkness at noon
but plane and plate
dull metal
and dust plodding
into heavy evening

Once there were days
of fire in heaven
fire on our tongues
and we sang like the morning

Better never
to have had those days
than to have had them


There is a little fire
at the edge of the world
all else is dark

Our steps
clutter the stillness

The way leads
to the dark heart
of grief

My hair
drags like memory

I remember
the flames in the brazier
like thorns

I thought I had
no tears left
but mourning is

I am no self
but sorrow.

And shame.

My name.
Stir of two sounds.
I lift my head.

And I am
the new sun rising.