Good Friday

Good FridayLast star over the hills
Has been swallowed by silence,
Prolonged thunder plainly heard.
Cold wind is not hindered by bare tree.

Where is the rainbow now?
What hope disturbs the death—
Imbalance of evil bloodies the Earth.
How does one hear Silence?

Do you sense the Abyss in this?
Where is your heart?  Where are your wounds?
If not, how many deaths does it take
Before you notice the absence of beauty?

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