Morning Star
The silver medal which I wear
Weighs not more than dragonflies,
Or less, perhaps, the wings, a hair,
The azure facets of their eyes
Heavy weight there is in loss,
The Virgin Mary and the Cross,
Easy and as light as love
Saint Joseph and the Spirit Dove
Heavy as the wooden bar,
Bitter as the lash of scorn,
Buoyant as the morning star
The rising of the sun has borne
Pavel
September 22, 2011
