Matthew Elam, C’14
Guilt-ridden, I searched
dogmatic tombs,
hoping corpses
would hold the glory,
the resurrection,
to change this suffering heart
to healing hands.
But bones are bones,
flesh is rot,
and silent mouths bear nought
but silent, swollen tongues.
The beating heart I sought
never sounded in the damp;
I saw no life save the one
I carried with me
and realized
that’s all I’d need.
Generation 