EASTER HOPE

As we age our Easter Hope becomes clearer and clearer. Our family members and many friends have past through the curtain of death. Their souls have entered through the Heavenly gate and await the resurrection reunion with their new incorruptible and immortal bodies. Because of Easter they died in hope.

Easter time brings to mind the “lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.” The brutal savage slaying of our Passover lamb moves from the gory scene of Calvary to the glory of the empty tomb. We go from death’s despair to resurrection hope!

I was told recently by a young friend that some of my poems were too dark and heavy for him. He went on to say as he read the “heavy stuff” he became sad, but as he read on to the end he moved from sadness to hope. Almost, without exception, my poems that walk through the valley of the shadow of death move in the light of God’s love toward us and our hope that is eternal.

Many of my poems are light hearted and speak of the beauty of God’s creation that surrounds us. As an Octogenarian poet I am also surrounded by pain, suffering and death about which I also write. Frankly, if it were not for the love and hope I have through my loving Savior’s death, resurrection and ascension the golden nuggets of the truth in my poems reflecting a beautiful eternal life that leads us through the curtain of death would not blossom forth.

It has been almost a year since my youngest and last brother died. I have written a poem based on what his doctor told my niece shortly before he died. It is my prayer that as you read it you will see the LOVE and HOPE we have in the glorious history of Easter. My poem follows:

HANG HIS SUIT UPON THE DOOR
Go hang his suit upon the door,
I cannot treat him anymore.
He may not live another day.
That’s what she heard his doctor say.

“Hang his suit on the door,” Doc said,
“It won’t be long before he’s dead.
His battered body won’t survive,
Can’t tell what’s keeping him alive.”

“Remove the tubes and stop the pills,
Nothing we do will cure his ills.
Kidneys don’t work, his heart is bad,
Done all we can for this old lad.”

“We’ll send him home and let him die,
With loved one dear can heave last sigh.
She’ll hold his hand; they’ll share their love,
Walk to the portal up above.”

Their final words have all been said,
Now he lies silent on his bed.
Go take his suit from off the door,
For he will wear it just once more.

He lies now in the coffin drear,
Voices of loved ones cannot hear.
His suit upon him neatly drapes,
And on his door there hangs a crepe.

Watch for the Resurrection day,
He will arise, suit drops away.
His body will immortal be,
Clothed in white robe eternally.

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©3/14/09 200

Shortly before my youngest brother, Guy, died, when my niece, Elizabeth, asked what could be done for him, the doctor told her to “Hang his suit upon the door.” Upon Elizabeth’s insistence the doctors released him to go home to spend his final hours with his wife Shirley. He died several hours later, having had the opportunity to interact with his wife and to share their final words of loving release. This poem is dedicated to them and their enduring loving devotion to each other.

 Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.
I Corinthians 15:51-53 (NKJV)

I trust that whatever may be your circumstances you will find joy, peace and hope in the glorious resurrection that awaits us.

Hugs in Christ’s and My Love,

Don E. Cunningham
Patriarch Octogenarian Poet ©4/7/09 660