dawning

when peace sweeps
the cobwebs of our fears
out of the corners
of those tombs
we carve into
our hearts;

when death is left stunned
at the open grave door,
the empty shroud
dangling in its hands;

when grace gently
bathes the scars
with God-tears,
swaddling them in
bands of compassion;

when joy
takes our breath away,
and we can only stand,
slack-jawed,
in awe and alarm;

when hope races
ahead of our doubts,
waiting to welcome us
when we return home,
wrapping us in
the tender arms
of love . . .

morning has come
with unexpected
elegance.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman