This week, eternity descends from wounded skies,
And crashes like lightning, into our humdrum lives.
We are required to decipher seemingly grim,
And obscure symbols, hymns and signs; which indeed, in
Our glazed, modern eyes, belong to some other time.
Yet transfiguration of potent bread and wine
Into flesh and blood, provides rich meaning throughout
Each slow century, and makes sense, of grief and doubt.
New notions arise from ancient ceremonies.
This age still yearns to address deeply human needs.
Easter is a time torn between the dark and light
Of Being in an estranged world. Yet blossoms white
And pink emerge in spring; after winter's harsh reign.
Their Christ - like beauty, in our memories, remains.
Easter's a time for renewal and reflection:
From cold crucifixion to warm resurrection.
For this solemn week, speaks of profound human pain,
And life's redemption, like the healing April rain.