Where I live drought desecrates,
Heat scorches fields, crops wither,
Wasted while elsewhere floods
Devour bridges to rip asunder
Friend and family. Things fall
Apart. The parched earth cracks,
The chasms widen to swallow
Whole our fractured world.
Here, before us, the abyss,
Yet, if you can, imagine this:
Within that void, the empty tomb,
A place of grief, of loss, of fear,
A woman weeps. She stands alone.
A place of waiting, hidden, fertile,
Why are you weeping? Jesus asks,
And out of darkness, springs new
Life.
—Sarah Rossiter
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Tunnel Vision
Alice Roberts is a familiar face in British media. A skilled archaeologist, she has for years hosted…
The German Bishops’ Conference, Over the Cliff
When it was first published in 1993, Pope St. John Paul II’s encyclical on the reform of…
In Praise of Translation
The circumstances of my life have been such that I have moved, since adolescence, in a borderland…
