Poetry

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What Does Easter really mean to me?


Is it just the same old Story, I’ve heard year after year?

Or a moving, stirring melody, always bringing me to tears?

Is it a time for giving thanks, that I have been redeemed?

Or the choir’s great performance, with songs of Calvary?



For some of our lovely Ladies, is it new shoes a purse or dress?

Is it a time for eggs and baskets, chocolate bunnies and all the rest?

For some dear Dads, is it that time of year, they don their Sunday best?

Are there some who get dragged to church, although they could care less?



Or is it more than all of these, something I might have missed?

The cross, the nails, the crown of thorns, the suffering and death?

He was robed in flesh, for this very day, was my salvation free?

No--I'm the sinner whose debt was paid, when they nailed Him to that tree?



He died, was buried, rose again; isn’t this the scene?

Or should I come to Calvary, his suffering to glean?

Does He require my physical death? Must I be crucified?

Or must my selfish, carnal man, daily, learn to die?



Am I to lie beneath the ground, His burial to know?

Or to Baptism's waters, to receive its cleansing flow?

He rose again a brand new life, even this within my grasp?

Can I rise above sin and now walk as he walked?

Oh, yes! Easter, I know you at last!



John Wark 2010.

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