Inspired by the one, lone daffodil that was blooming in front of
my house when I went out this morning. Very rare and special in our shady yard.
A Remnant of
Resurrection
the time for
daffodils has come
bunches of six, ten,
or twelve,
with
tightly wrapped buds,
arrive from warmer
lands.
like sentinels of
invitation
they keep my
wintered heart
leaning into Spring.
the directions say to
cut
at least half
inch off the stem,
then place in water
and
wait for the
surprise.
behold, in the early
hour of dawn,
I see resurrection on
my kitchen table,
every yellowed
daffodil hurrahing the morning,
stretching outward
in the etched-glass vase,
but what captures my
attention
is one small, thin
remnant,
voluntarily
discarded,
beneath the smiling
daffodils.
this dry, transparent
cover,
a cast-off tube of
protection
once concealing a
fragile bud,
conveys the price of
blooming.
I pick up this
remnant of resurrection
and hold it for a
long, silent time,
wondering what
soul-shroud of mine
needs to be
unwrapped,
before I, too, am
blooming.
Joyce Rupp
Prayer
Lord, give me the
faith and courage to ask: what soul-shroud of mine needs to be unwrapped?
No comments:
Post a Comment