Resurrection Pines

upon the burial of W.D. Jordan

beloved grandfather

The wind in the pines

begins a whisper,

a hushed refrain, the murmuring hymn

of an age-old tune -

Creation's song with muted words

proclaims;

from dawn of time to dusk,

from rising and the setting sun,

familiar chorus echoes through

the trees:

life waits to be made new,

renewed,

yearning, striving, aching, pining;

Already-not yet, whole.

Anticipating greater winds,

the movement grows,

as breezes blow,

bending stubborn branches,

unveiling whence the true Light

shines.

Inspiring, showing, glowing,

brushing back the dark, and 

Drawing brightened gazes higher,

Lifting up, still lifted to the

clear and open skies, arise -

Soon no more tears, nor sighs.

Until with shout triumphant,

blasts the heavenly gate

of unearthly choirs,

fills the reborn firmament,

bends the hearts, the heads, the knees

of men.

And raises up the dead in Him

alive with life unending,

Life!

No longer bent and broken,

rushed, pushed, prodded,

tossed, twisted, turn, then -

in a moment changed.

The wind in the pines

reminds

of Resurrection coming.

Margaret Jago McCarthy

Link to story about crosses and pine trees (esp loblolly & longleaf )