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.
Beautiful poem to contemplate on these next couple of weeks! Kelly–are you still hosting a link-up? I'm thinking not but just want to double check!
Hi Amy, no more linkup . . . thanks for stopping by, though!
please tell me your next book will be a poetry collection. This is stunning as well.
Someday, maybe, Jody 🙂
Perfect for our Easter week contemplation. Thank you, Kelly. Blessings on your Easter.