Text of poem - 'Easter. I approach'. Easter. I approach the years' empty tomb. What has time done with itself? Is the news worth the communicating? The word's loincloth can remember little. A thin, cold wind blows from beyond the abysm that I gawp into. But supposing there were bones; the darkness illuminated like a museum? In glass cases I have peered at the brittle bundles, exonerating my conscience with mortality's tears. But here, true to my name, I have nothing to hold on to, an absence so much richer than a presence, offering instead of the skull's leer an impalpable possibility for faith's fingertips to explore.
Pasg Hapus i chi gyd!
Happy Easter to you all!
‘Easter. I approach…’ - #RSThomas
(Uncollected Poems, @BloodaxeBooks)