'The footprints of Lazarus still blaze in desert dust, waiting to spark fire in imagination.' Photo: by Derek Thomson on Unsplash
Come to my house
Poem by Dana Littlepage Smith
by Dana Littlepage Smith
5th July 2024
Some would number us
in lost accounting piles:
a wind toppled abacus of old Quakers.
Our vestments of truth may be
frayed to lace, the burlap of equality
clotted with centuries of mistakes.
