Sturdy, deep green tulip shoots.
How did they know
it was time to push up through the long-wintered soil?
How did they know
it was the moment to resurrect,
while thick layers of stubborn ice
still pressed the bleak ground flat?
But the tulips knew.
They came, rising strongly,
a day after the ice died.
There’s a hope-filled place in me
that also knows when to rise,
that waits for the last layer of ice
to melt into obscurity.
It is urged by the strong sun
warming my wintered heart.
It is nudged by the Secret One,
calling, calling, calling:
“Arise, my love, and come.”
My heart stirs like dormant tulips
and hope comes dancing forth.
Not unlike the Holy One
kissing the morning sun,
waving a final farewell
to a tomb emptied of its treasure.
© Joyce Rupp
POEMS
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by Joyce.
