It’s Sarah’s old-bone incredulity
wrecked by the coos of borne-out prophecy.
It’s Jacob learning that his son’s not dead,
the brothers scrubbed of blood they long thought shed.
It’s Miriam’s, Deborah’s, Hannah’s canticles,
delivered from the haughty’s manacles.
It’s David writhing, leaping for the ark,
ignited by the spirit’s purple spark.
It’s Mary’s yes, Elizabeth’s embrace,
the Holy Family’s travel-weary grace.
It’s Jesus changing water into wine,
festivity prolonged his first great sign.
It’s faithful men who ripped the roof apart
so that their friend could rise with swelling heart.
It’s Peter sprinting toward the vacant tomb
after betrayal, away from Adam’s doom.
—Steven Knepper
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Tunnel Vision
Alice Roberts is a familiar face in British media. A skilled archaeologist, she has for years hosted…
The German Bishops’ Conference, Over the Cliff
When it was first published in 1993, Pope St. John Paul II’s encyclical on the reform of…
In Praise of Translation
The circumstances of my life have been such that I have moved, since adolescence, in a borderland…
