The Fire at the Shore

A sonnet for Resurrection Sunday.

You meet us on the road outside the gate,

our faces fallen in the failing light,

and walk with us as in the cool of day,

and breaking bread restore our broken sight.

You find us cowering behind locked doors

and walled within our hollow hearts of stone.

You speak Shalom! Shalom! and promise your

Spirit, who fashions armies from dry bones.

You seek us weeping by the garden tomb,

our one Beloved gone into the Fray—

Yet resurrection renders death a womb,

so rising forth, you call us out by name.

And if the dawn breaks bleakly as before,

you’ll meet us by the fire at the shore.

--

April 2022