Easter me, O God
Easter all
who sense a never-ending
Gethsemane
Golgotha
or emptiness
relentless in ennui
of soul.
Easter us
as sure as lilies bloom
ere winter’s past
as sure as sun rise
heralds end of night
as sure as Eden tree
grows from a single seed
in skeleton shadow sown
remaining after all the old has died.
Yes
Easter once again
and again
and again.
Ann Glover O’Dell
26 June 2009