Saviour / Benjamin Rozonoyer
Stooped the Saviour
Where my spirit lay unconscious,
Where reeds and rushes waver
Like a melancholy conscience.
Wringing wrist He straightened,
Speaking words before unspoken;
And the conscience woke unweightened,
And the marshy film was broken.
Ringing mirth He pounded
Against gates that long stood bolten,
And the April air resounded,
And the raysome door crashed open.
Saviour: Copyright 2022 by Benjamin Rozonoyer. All rights reserved.