in caravaggio’s ikon
“Thomas,/ Apostle to our secular, mocking, murderous/ new age…” Weekend poem for Easter Sunday, by John Robert Lee.
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“Thomas,/ Apostle to our secular, mocking, murderous/ new age…” Weekend poem for Easter Sunday, by John Robert Lee.
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“too far away for words. some/ broken dreams…” Weekend poem, by Kamau Brathwaite.
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“its roots that grip the past/ clutching sand and charcoal grit/ to hold its ground…” Weekend poem, by Xiang Yeow.
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“How did she not bewitch you with the dancing in her golden eyes?/ Dewy and trusting – like when she fell asleep once, under that baobab tree, to the music from an African rainfall?…” Weekend Poem, by Zvezdana Rashkovich
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“I wore charred wings in my hair/ for weeks after she left,/ I prayed to her in tongues/ of wild grasses and deep water.” By Danielle Boodoo-Fortuné.
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