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A Displacing Faith
Stalwart, salient, silent,
broader arms release / embrace
our metered miles.
Measured with the tenuous touch
of when to now.
So paused, we then invent, somehow
this time of shimmering moments.
As the darkness of dusk is lapped
by the edge of the day,
heads all bowed, the new nuns pray,
faces bathed in the blue-white
spiritual light of i-phones;
angels walking this new earth
with faces wearing the crowns
of haloes that have slipped down.
Copyright ©
Vernon Witmer
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