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
from dawn of time to dusk,
from rising and the setting sun,
familiar chorus echoes through 
the trees:
life waits to be made new,
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
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 gale
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,
No longer bent and broken,
rushed, pushed, prodded,
tossed, twisted, turning, then —
in a moment changed.

The wind in the pines
of Resurrection coming.


Relevant verses for reference:

Romans 8:22-27
Isaiah 45:6-8
Matthew 24:30-31
1 Corinthians 15:52
1 Thessalonians 4:16-17
Revelation 11:15 

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