A Poem for Pascha

There have been times in my life when everything seemed infused with spiritual meaning. The early 1990s had a lingering ring like cathedral bells. I felt very close to God.

I wrote his poem in 1992 and it was included in my book Finding Oakland, that year.

CLEAN MONDAY

I have decided to follow
Winter’s last storm into the ditch
beyond the wall, which becomes
a drain, a pipe to the street,
the culvert under U.S. 101.
I have been treated well
and have reached the sea
at last. Remember me
by the dark rainwater stain
down the wall of my room
and in the winds of March
that sweep the shingles
and the gutters clean.
I will come home
for Bright Week, in April
with the willow blossoms
on the altar steps
the higher altitudes of birds,
bells at midnight, the turning
of the shrouds and vestments
white. Carried inland by
the softer, warmer tides of Spring.

© 1992 by Kyle Kimberlin

The meaning of Pascha.

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