Rechristened

By Sean Fisher

Published April 20, 2025

      
In the quiet ache of morning, 'neath the pale dawn's tender glow,
A grieving Daughter lingered—near the tomb, with heart laid low.
Bleak sorrow won the moment, wet emotion traced her face;
For the One who once had healed her was no longer there encased.
At the precipice of meaning, seeming hope had dash-ed been;
a piece of path we all too face when present seems too grim.
And in that hollow silence, one tear fell, and twirled, and glistened;
Creation paused that instant 'fore her grief would be rechristened.
Then—
Just one word—a whispered mercy—but she knew who spoke the same;
Her breath caught in amazement as the Gard'ner called her name.
"Mary," spoke he gently, tender power filled His tone;
In that instant grief departed—she stood not alone, but known.
Now—
Her future, sacred past for us, shone brighter through His light;
our future, woven with His life, gleams endless in his sight.
So, daughters, when life's darkness leaves your heart and hopes grown dim,
Remember Mary at the tomb; remember Risen Him.
His voice can pierce all sorrow, His love knows no divide;
Hear Him calling, softly calling, Stand in hope—He is alive.