You have to
return to the tomb
to experience
resurrection.
Return to
the place where once
you knew
without doubt
all hope was
gone, the last
dying gasp
of breath expelled.
Then
silence, stillness
and the
great tearing open
of sky and
earth.
The first
sign of spring
is the revelation
of all
that’s
died. Snow’s clean
slate hides decay,
but when the
sun’s warmth rises
its first disclosure
is the depth
of loss –
the grass,
brown and
trampled, barren
broken limbs
scattered, earth
exposed and
the empty stretch
of field
filled with brown stalks
of decomposition.
This is the
time of waiting,
the time in
which we grow
weary and
lose heart.
You have to
watch the barren
earth, pull
back brown leaves,
lean close
scanning the hidden
places. You have to stand beside
the stone,
Martha would tell us,
your
trembling hand pressed against
its cold, hard
surface. You have to enter
the dark
cave, Peter whispers, not knowing
what you’ll
find.
You have to
sit through the long,
dark night to see the first light of morning,
to feel the
sharp intake of breath
as the sky’s
closed eye, cold and gray
cracks open
slowly, then with growing
determination. This is what you must do
to
experience resurrection.
This post is linked with the High Calling.
Love this and the picture!
Thanks Amy.
Love this vivid poem, Kelly. Puts me right there, eyes, nose, ears, hands to the earth this time of year.
Thanks.
Kelly I was thinking yesterday about the parallel in fairy tales about facing giants and witches ("Into the Woods") and the necessity of the darkness to push us towards the light.
There is no way but through it.
Loved this.
Unfortunately (or is it fortunately??), that's the truth – no way but through it. Blessed Easter to you, Jody.