Like Grass Renewed in the Morning
And so we are renewed every morning the Bible says,
though by mid-afternoon the old weariness
creeps back in from its hiding place (in my house
behind the wing chair in the northwest corner of the study)
and one begins to doubt that morning ever came or
will ever come again. It is a dreary thing. Why this
waxing and waning of the spirit? This interminable rhythm
of renewal and loss? Ah – interminable. No.
You sweep them away; they are like a dream,
like grass that is renewed in the morning. . .
The Grim Sweeper, we should call you then? And this is how
you come to us, having evaded us for so long? Why
show your face at that last possible moment? Why allow
our short lifetime of defiance? We were only children, after all.
Your absence tricked us into crucifying every better hope. We
would have chosen wisely if you’d demanded it. The yoke
was too light; love, too simple. Jesus.
What are human beings that you are mindful of them,
mortals that you care for them?
On the lips of death, the question.
The question is forever.