Monday, 11 March 2013
Are the streets of Jerusalem.
Sun on the old stone stairways
And the baking air.
Are the high walls and the tumbling flowers,
Vivid as a clarion call in a net of leaves,
Red and pink in the thorns and prickles.
Even the plants must arm themselves
Against the night and the harsh demands of day
And yet it is always the sunshine that persists,
Delights my inner eye.
I feel the peace of Sabbath streets
The Jewish Quarter vertical with praise.
The men are hurrying to meet the Bride.
They circle with a dance of joy by the Temple wall
As the night falls
It is already night when joy begins
The Sabbath is at hand and a beautifying surplus of soul
Visits our mortal bones and lingers on.
A light of resurrection
A climate of unchangeable joy
And I rejoice in the springing up
Of the eternal tale.
He walked and spoke and lived
He died and lived again
These streets bear testament to His being here.
The Bells of the Triduum ring.
We hurry to the Russian church.
The tapering candles held
To the glimmering faces of the radiant saints.
The choir from Moscow sings
Deep-throated harmonies at the very gates of hell.
These Christ has touched by His all Perfect Presence
His all-emptying Praise.
Obedience calls him to so great, so vast, to such abysmal fall
And yet a royal progress through the chaos of the soul
Man’s soul and deeds since sin first entered in,
Commenced its tearing and dismembering work, enacted by the hands of men.
He walks there now
A world more vast than all the earth’s globe utterly destroyed
And still he has no power to ascend
He walks and powerless he waits
Till there alone the Easter dawn appears.
A flake of light
As gentle as a solitary leaf
Falls like a kiss upon the metal hell of death
A forest full of leaves of light blow in like a rivening flame
The second chaos soars with hope
Breaks forth with a roar of joy
Who is this King of Glory?
O, lift Higher Ancient Doors!
And let Him enter, Who has come
To claim and take us home!
Sarah de Nordwall February 21st 2013