An Agnostic's Easter Morning

This morning, I stepped into our bedroom,
found a sweater, turned to the futon
where you still slept. Intending
some question of groceries or bills,
I was silenced by your slightly open lips
and shallow breaths. I crouched beside you,
watching a worn pillowcase thread lift and
shudder with each breath. Fine blond hairs
spread across your pale cheek, creating
an almost irresistable urge to brush them away.

I resisted for long moments, content
to watch you sleeping, and marvel at the
silent miracle. Knowing
that I could wake you with a touch or
whisper or tears -- that you would
touch or grumble or comfort in return --
what spendor there was in that silent
knowledge! Eventually, I touched your
shoulder, asked my question, closed the
bedroom door behind me.

*****
M.A. Mohanraj
April 7, 1996

More poems.

Previous Kevin poem.
Next Kevin poem.