I stumbled upon a poem I wrote in 2018, entitled "Resurrection":
May your sight burn with the flames of grace
as you stand over the bones--
ivory white and stacked high in the sand--
to behold the roaring wind
bringing the dead, clattering, back to life again.
May your despairing heart be singed with joy
as you walk with a stranger
along the road.
May your life be watered by the dew
when Love surprises you in the morning.
May you stand defiant before the logical world
as the prophet of the impossible,
to thunder in sackcloth at their disbelief:
"Why seek ye the living among the dead?"
Not to "explain" poetry, but if anyone cared:
The first verse is the resurrection imagery from the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37. The second verse is imagery from the Road to Emmaus ("Were not our hearts burning within us?). And the third verse is Mary Magdalene standing in the garden of the empty tomb on Easter morning.
And, of course, the last verse is about the disenchantment of the modern world, how, in our disbelief (as the "logical world"), we find ourselves searching for life in the midst of deadness. In such a world, Easter people stand as defiant "prophets of the impossible."
