{"id":1614,"date":"2013-03-25T03:23:24","date_gmt":"2013-03-25T03:23:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=1614"},"modified":"2017-07-11T17:59:50","modified_gmt":"2017-07-11T17:59:50","slug":"all-the-saints-by-vijay-khurana","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/all-the-saints-by-vijay-khurana\/","title":{"rendered":"All the Saints by Vijay Khurana"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Vijay<\/a><\/h1>\n

All the Saints<\/h1>\n

by Vijay Khurana<\/p>\n

See here, where the floor is worn<\/p>\n

that’s where they say she knelt before she died
\nfull of grace, but how could she not be<\/p>\n

It’s a wonderful mosaic<\/p>\n

cracked and clustered
\nequal parts earth, sky and void
\nthey must have brought that pigment
\nall the way from the east
\nsomebody’s life’s work<\/p>\n

It’s a great pity the tiles are so distressed<\/p>\n

every fracture maps a footfall,
\nthat godly imperfection
\nthe impact of mahogany, oak or skull
\nHer hair is in a shrine. Singular
\nPressed between two rosed panes of glass
\nAnd there’s a magnifying glass
\ntied to a piece of brown string
\nthe kind we have at home for tying tomatoes
\nit rolls fibrous between the thumb and the middle finger
\ndisintegrating like the burning sun
\nWe queue up
\nto see the dead woman’s hair
\nI can’t wait to feel that string between my fingers
\nOnce I found a whisker from the cat
\nand kept it in a box, with a car
\nand those foreign dice with the pictures on
\ntools for a sport I could not play
\nI would watch it bow
\nfull of grace
\nfeel the impression it left on the back of my hand,
\nmy lips, my tongue
\nuntil it broke and was gone
\n(long after the cat was dead and gone)
\nstanding in line, my water bottle
\nthrows a disc of dancing light on the wall
\nover where the young woman died<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

See here, where the floor is worn<\/p>\n

that?s where they say she knelt before she died
\n full of grace, but how could she not be<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1737,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[428],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1614","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-inspirational-poems"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1614","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1614"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1614\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1737"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1614"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1614"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1614"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}