Thunder, darkness, flood are gone, and now there is complete
Silence. Here in our whale we hold a vigil
For what used to be. The world flounders in an endless lull.
There is no land, and there is no bread to eat.
Devoured Jonah, pity us! At least for you, a boat
Still sailed, the Earth still turned and warmed itself!
Not us: with that Mouthful of Dust, Earth swallowed herself
And stared like Eve as all Creation fell down her throat.
—Jane Clark lives in Phoenix, AZ, and spends her time teaching third grade, reading philosophy, and making her house feel like a home. Follow her adventures on Twitter @jane_wonders. This is the first in a trilogy of Holy Week poems.
— Sam Klatt is an Austin-based photographer and videographer. His interests include art, music, basketball, skiing, and traveling. To see more of his photography, follow him on Instagram @samklatt.