by Bryce Christensen
"The vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed . . . ”
- Isaiah 29:11
“ . . . and the books were opened . . . “
- Revelation 20:12
Like spines of books arrayed along a shelf, the stones
That mark mute graves conceal dense texts, now closed
To eyes half-blind to trials that life imposed
On souls who wrote their names on pages shown
To no one, blinder still to what they’ve known
Since death, to Purgatory’s pains exposed,
Their earthy cries to godly chants transposed.
Grim tombs become dumb tomes, their authors prone.
But Easter dawn’s a promise: graveyard books
Will open, chapter after chapter spill
Their secrets into view, long hidden things
At last break open to inquiring looks:
Enigmas bound to lie in silence ‘til,
They’re read aloud by lectors riding wings.