Ode to the Religion I Left Jordan Forest
I haven’t wanted to write you an ode. I’ve wanted to say nothing, in the same way I go to sleep without talking to God now. But yesterday I remembered my father and how he cried on Easter morning while leaning against our living room window and reading tissue-paper verses about the cross and about the disciple who ran to the empty tomb. I remembered the way he looked at the sunrise that morning— waving his hand at me, wanting me to see all that yellow too.
First Place, Undergraduate Poetry
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