There is a graveyard near here;
a raw wound in the flesh of my soul
only lately covered over
by hands more loving than mine.
Those hands which, even now,
press down the earth with care
have been carefully preparing me
and lovingly protecting me.
When the death-blow came
they were the only hands
in which I could lay the corpse
of a broken thing once lovely.
He took from me that which was broken
and wept many tears over it.
With love in his eyes, and great care
He buried it where you see.
When the pain made me cry out
His were the hands
that stroked my tear-stained face.
I stand now in dew-wet grass
my eyes filled with a death which,
though long foreseen,
is not mourned less for the knowing.
For a moment I imagine that I am alone
with ghosts and spirits and rain.
My hands are empty. I have no token;
I am desolated in this place.
But then I see His hands
reach down to lay something
on the place where I have died.
Roses of many shades, perfectly formed
and sweet with fragrance
Perfume the air over this grave.
The Comforter, once again,
offering me the great exchange;
Life for death, the oil of gladness
in the place of mourning, roses for dry bones,
Himself for lesser lovers.
To die so all my days
Is naught but that for which I seek.
I rejoice in the graveyard of my soul.
Very, man…I am at a loss for adjectives. Happiness upon you!
I hope that’s a good loss of adjectives…
Love you too! Pray that I think of something good to speak on at Graduation tonight.
Oh wow it’s tonight all ready! You should speak on friends, friends with Jesus and friends in new places. (Different then having friends in low places.)