Sacred Sunrise

The candles burned brightly in the temple,

repaired the curtains and ordered the day,

while down in the fields a body, dead lay.


Relieved they slept through a golden dawn

and missed the signs that God was about,

missed the glory of dying being bested.


The sun burnished creation that morning

and made the tomb full of light, and angels

tell the good news and the temple was dim.


The earth produced its brightest flowers

to welcome him and everywhere creation

sang with joy that life was now the future.


Sweet incense curled its way in the dark,

and psalms intoned and sacrifices made,

as they made God in their own grave image.


Hands stretched and hearts groaned as

the God torn hanging stitched and sown

was hung, separated the empty sanctuary.


They missed the angel and the shaking,

as in poverty and powerless Jesus rose,

naked walked grounding in the green, garden.


They missed the angels and the gardener.

The Christ came to reveal himself to those

they scorned, will scourge and lock away.


God watched them make their obeisance

self congratulatory, seeking in God’s grace

reward for their grievous attempt to silence –

God’s only word to the world with brutality.

God’s word to the world of justice, mercy

of grace and the guardianship of the earth.

While down in the city loins were girded,

people were happy and life was changed,

for death has lost its sting, hope restored.


God would always be there with the poor 

the sick would always find compassion,

and a broken earth always has the truth,

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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