Friday, June 17, 2016


Often resurrection hangs in the air
like some floating spring blossoms
released by a wind gust

Resurrection found in stones
singing with one another
as the creek flows around them

Resurrection in the breath of a child
running from the bus
toward the parent’s waiting arms

Resurrection in the dawn-garden
dripping down Mary’s face
until he calls her name

On the road
breaking bread
frying fish
sharing work with one another
sharing stories of healing and grace

Jesus, as we gather, we hear you say:
“and now you’ll be telling stories of my coming back
and they won’t be false,
and they won’t be true
but they’ll be real”*

*Mary Oliver

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