A poem from the Cathedral Times
by
the Very Reverend Samuel G. Candler,
Dean of the Cathedral of
St. Philip
The sky is still deep dark
When pinpoints of people,
like stars,
One by one, in quiet procession,
Precede
the dawn.
White hot Vega gazes down from
overhead,
And Arcturus shepherds us into a
circle
Around the slight spark,
And now a fire, rising
from Good Friday.
When the bonfire roars, a bright
blindness
Transfixes our eyes, and flames,
Rise still
higher
Until they cast a golden crown around
Every
face there.
In that moment, I see no
bodies
Or fine clothes, or Easter bonnets,
For they
are still hidden in the darkness,
Buried with the rest of our
worries
And evening pains, and Saturday graves.
I see only faces, beautiful icons
Glistening in
resurrection glory,
In moist anticipation of
baptism,
Just before sunrise.
It is the
only time we can ever look
Directly at the sun,
When
it is on the horizon,
At the edge,
Of something
new.
The Very Reverend Sam Candler