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Saturday, April 19, 2014

A Poem for Easter


By Sherrie Morrison

Tis midnight and on Olivet
The moon and stars are all that stare
Upon the sacred ground
Where Jesus prayed and wept.
This grove of trees - this sanctuary -
Where the Son of Man sought solace from the agony he faced,
Stands dark and still.

Gnarled, ancient trees with roots in hallowed soil,
Olive trees, Israel’s symbol of true light and life,
Raise their branches to the skies.
In fruiting season, these trees bear
The oil that will anoint and run down priestly beards.
This grove of trees,
This sanctuary where the Son of God
Surrendered to His Father’s will,
Now listens, quiet and calm.

Tis midday and on Golgotha
Soldiers and mourners hover ‘round and stare
Upon the condemned cross
Where Jesus bled and died.
This grove of beams - this gallery -
Where the Son of God sought his Father’s face in the agony he faced,
Stands dark and wild.

Rough, hand-hewn trees with crossbeams in the sky,
Killing trees, Rome’s symbol of barbaric justice served,
Raise those crossbeams to the skies.
These have no fruiting season, but one bears
The blood that will run down and wash away man’s sin.
This grove of three,
This gallery of death where the Son of God
Gave up His life to save those who believe,
Now trembles, grieved and torn.

Tis early dawn and in a grove of graves
Faithful followers now stoop and stare
Into the open tomb
Where Jesus had been laid.
This grove of graves - this gallery -
Where the risen Lord broke forth and conquered death,
Stands bright and calm.

Dark, haunting graves, devoid of branch or beam to raise,
Multiplying graves, a constant testimony to decay,
Expel their mounds of dust up to the skies.
In death’s dark season, these graves bear
The piteous tears anointing mourners’ beards.
This grove of graves,
This haunting place has lost its power of fear.
Beyond death’s reach, God’s Tree of Life 
Now beckons. Come! Rejoice!

Tis Easter Morn’
Faithful followers kneel and think
Upon the grace of God
Where sin’s dread debt was paid.
This grove of worshippers – this holy church- 
Where the Son of God now lives and reigns eternally,
Stands fast and free.

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful imagery and excellent message in this poem.