Easter morning in New Mexico: The Son is risen on another day Blasting grace on telephone poles; Rows of crosses, rows of trebuchets Cashed in my thirty day chip for a kiss In an air-conditioned bar in Truth or Consequences With a gameshow on, the stakes high enough to risk; It didn't taste like I remembered it Chasing sundogs to believe; I miss you more than tongues miss pulled teeth I drove four hours north, with one eye closed To El Santuario de Chimayo For a handful of dirt or a final roll; My friend from back home said I should go. The tourists packed in but no one talked And by the looks of it, everyone could walk So I swiped a crutch that was leaning against the wall That the Padres have the maintenance guy keep stocked Chasing sundogs to believe; I miss you more than tongues miss pulled teeth Now it's growing wide around us, this feeling in these bones As we shoot the wind with rifles and then bludgeon it with stones The Lord came in the wind and the dirt-- Where he sometimes can be found if you Squint; soften it to silhouettes-- His tessellated love is all around