An Easter Sunday Poem

Warbler on tree

The Whole Story

Behind that stone before
it was rolled away
a corpse lay.
There lay all I deplore:
fear, truculence – much more
that to any other I need not say.
But behind that stone I must be sure
of deadness, to allay
self-doubt i.e. so nearly to ignore
the love and sacrifice for our
release; to nearly stray
back into the old
pursuit of virtue.

Once it is clear
it was a corpse that day,
then, then, we know the glory
of the clean place, the floor
of rock, those linens, know the hour
of His inexplicable “Peace;” the pour
— after He went away —
of wonder, readiness, simplicity,
given.

                             –– Margaret Avison

 

***

 

Published by

Arti

If she’s not birding by the Pond, Arti’s likely watching a movie, reading, or writing a review. Bylines in Asian American Press, Vague Visages, Curator Magazine.

6 thoughts on “An Easter Sunday Poem”

  1. What a precious poem!! I was just reading online in a few different places, that when the soldier’s lance pierced Jesus’ side and the blood and water ran out, that the water was from a small sac around the heart, and that if Jesus had not already died, which He did as He laid down His life Himself, that that piercing wounding by the lance would have stopped His heart. A most Blessed Resurrection time to all!! See you in Heaven, by God’s grace and mercies!! God bless, C-Marie

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