Blue jays and chickadees sing antiphonally
in synchrony with bombs erasing histories
personal and cultural, all ready lived
and what would be.
The world is aching with the knowing;
the both-and, the weight
on one hand and the other,
each bearing what is real:
The fear is real. Also, the stress, worry, and concern;
the unknown, unclear, and uncomfortable.
These truths, but not only these.
The push of green breaking free from earth;
stuttering gasps of beauty breathing
after sheltering, readying, nourishing
the boldness of an primal instinct
to bloom, to be free, to stand in full flourish
Our grief is real.
So too our Alleluia.
We hold them both this Easter;
we can not choose between them.
Because you know this, lived this, share in this with us,
We turn to you and we ask your blessing
upon this meal, upon the company we keep, at table and in heart,
upon our world
Yours is the love we turn to;
Yours is the love that rises.