“the quality of mercy”

is a fierce and terrible beauty...

it hungers in its waiting

then consumes our darkest brokenness

even as it invites us to its table

prayer as archeology

i brush away the dirt

then

slowly small things which were once lost

rise out of the earth of my memory

then awake under the spade of silence

a new orleans’ liturgy for easter sunday

jackson square

people gather

a juggler works the crowd

as the traffic pulses into morning

music burns bright on every corner

intense as the torches

he tosses in his hands