As I write this blog entry, a treasured family member is undergoing surgery, replacing his cirrhotic liver with a donor organ. A 30-year-old man died tragically, but his organs may bring new life and a fresh start to my relative and many others in need.
Isn’t this a spiritual metaphor?
Can any of us bring new life to ourselves? In fact, real life often comes from death, as we see so beautifully expressed in the rebirth of spring all around us. And in the spiritual realm, are we not saved through the ultimate sacrificial death of all?
Capricious though our actions be,
Destroying psyche thoughtlessly,
And poisoning ourselves with glee –
We need a bailout, clear to see.
A new-sprung fountain, freshly filled,
May resurrect the body killed,
To gather up the lives we’ve spilled –
We need a force fit to rebuild.
Tumultuous, we bury law;
We flirt with foibles, flap the jaw,
Pursuing still a last hurrah –
Oh, how we need an inner thaw.
When will we gaze beyond the haze
To spot the One who merits praise?
We wander daily in a daze
And disregard divine displays.
What wonder may our lives rebirth?
Desires mask our deepest dearth.
May mercy reach beyond mere mirth
To summon us to lasting worth.
c2010 by Linda Ann Nickerson
Posted for a variety of prompts:
Monday Poetry Train (poem/s)
One Single Impression (“vicarious”)
Saturday Scribes (“capricious,” “new-sprung,” “thaw,” “tumultuous” and “psyche”)
Simply Snickers (“first, force” and “fresh”)
Weekend Wordsmith (“yawn”) or (“gaze”)
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