I come to the garden, alone.
The Earth is filled with the dark, pre-dawn smell of possibility.
Expectant waiting…isn’t that what I went through with you before?
Out of the darkness and into the world,
I brought you,
At once lesser and greater than I.
The garden is pregnant with the silence of waiting.
Is it true, what they say?
I believe you will come again…but when, who can know?
A gentle wind ripples the leaves above my head
And I feel the spirits of the dead around me,
Bowing their heads as I kneel and pray to my God,
“Bring back my Lord.”
A faint glow in the East,
Is it you?
A mourning dove sings out its morning song,
Soft and low,
Telling the tale of your life
That I know so well
But cannot share—I am drowned by my tears.
The flowers in the garden are closed,
Shivering against the chill of a world
Shrouded in fear of a future of darkness.
A gentle glow spreads over the dew-kissed morning,
Spreading gold threads of sun through the trees.
A soft footstep…or did I imagine it?
A whispered word…did I hear with my ears or with my heart?
I turn around…
The Son has risen.
(4/25/2011–Easter sunrise service, Oberlin, OH)