Once More

Once more on this chilly, dark morning
I visit my familiar place--
Repugnant yet compelling,
Often visited burial of my brokenness.

Why do I repeatedly skulk
about this deathly tomb
Feeling fresh pain, confusion, loss
Hopelessness, fear, desolation?

Looking for answers--for Him,
While nursing these crypted treasures.

A paralysis numbs my spirit
Deadens my senses.
Worship and prayer die in my throat.

Dumb with my emptiness, I bend down,
Open again the vault,
Painfully examine each dead dream,
buried hope, unhealed hurt--

Then unsettling --
Dawn’s dazzling light
breaks the dark.

Could it be my Savior
Himself sitting near my
tomb of hoard?
Why here? This no sanctuary.
Ashamed, I struggle in vain
To close the lid
Hide my broken heart.

Incased in
brilliant blinding light
He does not speak.

Love in his eyes,
He slowly rises, motioning me
to come away.
Tentatively I follow,
my eyes held back by my treasure.

Turning back to me,
he finally speaks
“Why are you looking for me
among these dead things?”

The holy power of his words –though
Uncondemning--convicts.
In repentance I firmly close the door
to all my buried dead things,
turning to follow Him.
“Come…” he invites.

–9/4/04 Anita
(Inspired by Macrina Wiederkehr “Feast of Encouragement” & Mark 28)