REFLECTION NO. 1

 

THE EARTH

cold, dark, unyielding,

brown, grey, black,

with crusty snow patches here and there.

THE EARTH

silent, brittle, forboding,

no birds song flowing, life is still,

death is present everywhere.

IT'S WINTER
and yet, though we can't see
there's life, under and in and through
there's hope.

Hope in the root of a tree
where - though now at rest
when the call springs forth
the fluids of life will rise anew.

Hope in the small seed
protected by soil - in death
it springs forth, to renew,
revive, restore.

Do we not see seasons of death
or are they seasons of rest,
what seems to be death
maybe times of rest.

We may be set apart
with no song flowing,
brown, grey, black
dry wilderness, with harsh winds blowing.

IT'S WINTER
and yet though we can't see
in death - there's life deep inside,
there's hope.

Hope that in death to self
new life springs forth
yielded, obedient, trusting
usable life to the creator.

Hope that in new life
fresh fruits of the Spirit
flow freely
renewing, reviving, restoring.

Is death really death
or does it only seem so,
is it the season of rest planned to bring
forth life, usable life, to the creator God,
Life that will produce more of its own
kind?

                        - Reylene vanGeldern