Who Calls Me…?

Who calls me, “Michael!” with many a knock,
On my heart’s gateways, woeful and locked?
I’m charmed by her call, the words I hear:
“I’ve come to bring you snowdrops, my dear,
And springtime and longing that you be near.
It is Pascha today, and you are delayed.
Heartbroken, at night I keep vigil and wait.
Hasten to go to the Lord’s Resurrection!”
Your calling begets forlorn lamentation:
“Not right now, dear, on the cross I still mourn,
Grab your love, darling, and swiftly return,
My time to be seen has long been forewarned.
With gashes still raw on my feet and my palm
Reach out and touch them with soothing balm
But rejoice with gladness, for although I bled,
It is written today I rose from the dead!”

Mihai Buracu
Pitesti Reeducation Prison, Hospital Room 4,
April 1951