Apr 08 2007
To New Mornings(For Resurrection Sunday)
Dew sprinkled on grass
Catches and fastens to the hems of their garments.
Dirt grips their feet and sandal leather.
They have come early,
Earlier than their normal time of waking.
They know that their Beloved’s body
Is at rest,
Now undergoing time’s decomposing embrace.
It would be wonderful to care for His body,
They surmise;
Covering it with scents and spices,
Hoping to mask His stench of death in their noses.
It feels like the sting of death in their hearts
Will never pass away.
And the pain of losing Him for all time
Forever will remain.
Heads bowed low, hearts torn open,
They fail to see that the tomb
Has been drastically changed.
But lifting their heads,
So that they make ponder who is to open his grave,
They are shocked to see the stone rolled away,
His resting place disturbed.
Guts ripped out, all hope is lost,
Their world has faded away.
Their Saviour has gone, their Jesus is stolen,
All color becomes gray.
Where has He gone?
Where have they taken Him?
Haven’t they done enough already
When they killed him just three days ago?
What could be left to do?
But then a voice
Splits the silence of the garden
And the grief within their souls.
“Why do you linger in a place
Where your Saviour is not?
He has risen, just like He said He would.
Go tell the others. He is waiting for you.â€
Joy breaks forth from mourning.
No longer does He lay.
Our clouds pushed aside by His sunshine.
This is truly resurrection day.
APN.
Copyright 04/08/2007
