Speaking through his own, Two million spirits cried: A dead and living choir. My heart’s a stone, a stone, Compared with his who died. And what if the flaming car That raptured Tishbe’s seer From Jordan’s settling flood (Elisha standing near) And purified his blood For where God’s Angels are, Caught Aaron in its fire? Note: If you enjoyed this poem, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and supporting politically fearless, independent, and quality poetry. Paid subscribers have access to the full archive of over 150 original poems and translations, at least 2 exclusive posts every week, and the opportunity to make requests for translation. The rate is $7 (£5.33) / month. In a world where art of this kind is seldom valued, your support makes a huge difference. - Jackson
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This is so heartbreaking and so beautifully written. Thank you, Jackson. Rest in Peace, Aaron.
Just thank you.