....UNTIL

My Good Friday reflection ended on the single note of uncertain waiting – “...Until?”
Holy Saturday, as it turned out, was a gardening day, and I found myself inadvertently sucked into a long –overdue demolition job on an old greenhouse. It was hot, tiring, bruising work, and the debris was left overnight all over the lawn – a pile of rotten roofing sheets, several bundles of metal spars, a collection of wire and cables cut from its overgrown interior, and a large heap of chopped undergrowth awaiting a trip to the local tip. And then waking early, “on the Sunday morning”, I came to the garden – not with ointment, but with a cup of tea!

The story continues:


…..UNTIL

The pregnant silence of the early morning light.
A lonely heron lazily flaps across
The space between what’s gone
And what is yet to be.

To this suburban garden comes the sun
Suffusing in its mellow misted innocence
A passing plane; a flock of geese high-flying
On the breakfast run.

Fallen blossom bedecks the still parched lawn
And there, by it adorned, a tangled heap of
Metal spars laid out as if for burial, the
Aftermath of demolition yesterday.

Knotted ropes are there as well, perchance a
Whip has done its work and now lies idle
Whispering “It was not I – I did not know
The man”. And tangled roots, a knotted crown.

But with the coming of the sun, the little birds
Take up the victory cry: they sing of life:
They chirrup healing over all that has been
Broken, all that bled, and wept and died.

A dove with wings set low for landing
Swoops to its chimney haunt; and in its
Passing glance it names my name
And peacefully proclaims “This is the day! –

Christus resurrexit!”


Easter Morning, April 2011