Poem | Rest

(Jordan Graff/Unsplash)

Swiveling in our Sabbath-rest,
we are impressed
by the slow,
winkless kindness that glows
slightly when we still.
No thrill,
no sudden
unrelated frill, no madman
One silver cast
of calm,
bracing us with the flavorless balm
of god.
It’s odd.
The only brightness,
it took this long to notice.

Published in the December 2021 issue: 

Magda Andrews-Hoke is a Philadelphia-born poet currently living in St. Andrews, Scotland, where she is pursuing an MLitt in Theology and the Arts. She was a 2019 recipient of the Frederick Mortimer Clapp Fellowship.

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