The first of the seven poem cycle from 2010, celebrating the poet's passion for the totem-muse White Sunday, and based on the Catholic sacraments.
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Let the waters pool in the river in preparation for the ritual purification.
Transcending the acts of transgressive pasts, lasting long enough
to wash away all sorrows if you let it penetrate the waxy scale
we shield ourselves with, the lies of self-preservation, for we are not
alone in this world. Bare skin purged of sweat of fear and folly,
prepared for the entry of an Holy Spirit, incarnated as a lover,
who hovers over the water, drawing up the resinous ruins
and purifying it in a reign and rain of redemption, the purification
of what we were that we may live again, twice born.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.