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  • Wilda Morris

Good Friday

poem by Wilda Morris

Photograph, "Crucifixion," by Clarissa Cervantes

When was it the story became so familiar

I could hear it without

tears, without something

inside stretching, breaking? What made

the fire in my spirit

cold? Please, Lord,

on this dark night

of your crucifixion, blow

on the coals of my heart,

reignite the fires of my love

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