
Mother Mary heard us,
Another answer to prayer.
Resurrection comes today;
Yesterday’s pleasure is pain.
Outcast, othered—smothered
From our own seduction—
Exiled by our own
Guilt, deep and profound.
Yesterday is a vanished today.
Posthumously, powers position
Themselves as our beneficiary.
POET’S NOTE:
An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. This poem reflects on repentance, exile, and the strange irony that those once cast aside are often embraced only after their witness can no longer unsettle the powers that claim them.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.




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