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Of righteousness,
They burn because
For Life, their lives they trade;

They heap themselves
Like coals against
Our darkened barricade;

They wash this tomb
With temple smoke
Like God, Isaiah’s crypt.

Yet night, our grave,
It blots the sky,
Against their blazing script.

Called they to Life,
“Use all that’s left,
Our heart, your light’s resource—

To purify,
To rend the wall,
To gavel your recourse.”

But Life returned
With greater plot
Whereby our shield to break.

“The night un-dies
Not by the lives
But by the death I take.

Yet smolder there,
Attrit the dark
That hope and love expels.

Send memories
Of mountain breeze
And of the coasts it tells,

Lest blindness bind
Them to the grave
And they, enshadowed, wilt;

Give anchor there,
Across the sea;
Redeem it from
The enemy—
The night,
The wall,
The guilt.”