To Christ, On Death
Open to thunder,
sun and lightening, grace
that spills out of all my
inward being.
I will not run from
stones and scrapes
and scars that
speak of wrestling
with an Incarnate God.
Not closed and drawn small
but open wide,
eyes seeing, ears hearing
arms reaching wide, cross-wide
to love the world.
Only then will I be shaped
enough for the final openness
to dark, for the reluctant offering up
of so loved self and world
to a final, total grasp of grace,
Becoming finally Me,
Given back, most beautiful in Thee.
Lord, let perpetual light shine upon her.
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