... Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.
You, you who are wedged within some dark Friday, far, too far from the sweet scent of the ivory horns which hearken our brand new day.
Down, dragged down a dusty road, still you stumble pressed beneath a weight one guilty should not have to bear.
You, you who now raise your empty eyes, your deep furrowed brow, and behold, set against the black inked horizon,
He hovers silver bright! Branded still, yet now washed, fresh and supple. Now His vesture billows like sails strong and majestic, snapping in the brisk and scented ocean air.
You, you who slumber undisturbed in innocence, and you who flee in anxious fear and shame, to both with uplifted arm He blesses.
To these impoverished and all alike, He bears aloft His standard virgin-white and blood-red alive, luminous, all aglow beneath the bright morning sun.
You, you who drag your weighted sorrow behind you, scaring the cold and vapid ground, look!
See how small about your weary and calloused feet, from the deep springs something soft and fresh, like crocus bright green piercing sharp the hard and empty earth.
You, you who are bent, bowed beneath your secret burden, stand! Stretch to touch the sky, for your weary exile is now spent.
Look, there, upon the East, comes the once Crucified, rising to lead you, yes you, from your dark Friday to this, our bright and endless Easter morn!
To forget yourself, do you not also have to forget others? Oh, I don't know. Forget it. I'm just busy trying to become who I am. No, that doesn't make sense. I'll rephrase: I'm just busy trying because of who I am.
Easter Sunday by Fr. Glenn Sudano
ReplyDeleteYou, you who are wedged within some dark Friday, far, too far from the sweet scent of the ivory horns which hearken our brand new day.
Down, dragged down a dusty road, still you stumble pressed beneath a weight one guilty should not have to bear.
You, you who now raise your empty eyes, your deep furrowed brow, and behold, set against the black inked horizon,
He hovers silver bright! Branded still, yet now washed, fresh and supple. Now His vesture billows like sails strong and majestic, snapping in the brisk and scented ocean air.
You, you who slumber undisturbed in innocence, and you who flee in anxious fear and shame, to both with uplifted arm He blesses.
To these impoverished and all alike, He bears aloft His standard virgin-white and blood-red alive, luminous, all aglow beneath the bright morning sun.
You, you who drag your weighted sorrow behind you, scaring the cold and vapid ground, look!
See how small about your weary and calloused feet, from the deep springs something soft and fresh, like crocus bright green piercing sharp the hard and empty earth.
You, you who are bent, bowed beneath your secret burden, stand! Stretch to touch the sky, for your weary exile is now spent.
Look, there, upon the East, comes the once Crucified, rising to lead you, yes you, from your dark Friday to this, our bright and endless Easter morn!
Fr. Glenn Sudano, CFR
Most Blessed Sacrament Friary, Newark, NJ
To forget yourself, do you not also have to forget others? Oh, I don't know. Forget it. I'm just busy trying to become who I am. No, that doesn't make sense. I'll rephrase: I'm just busy trying because of who I am.
ReplyDelete