Over the past months much has remained the same. For many of us this season has stretched longer than our initial predictions, and then longer than our revised predictions. At The Washington Institute we have striven to engage with our cultural moment, but at times we also dabble in contributing to culture.
Several months into this pandemic I wrote this poem after reflecting on the fact that as Christians we believe that one day Jesus’ eyes were closed in the grave, and then in a glorious moment they opened again for the first time and everything changed. May this poem be a small reminder that Christ has risen, and in him all things are made new (Rev. 21:5).
Jesus, Eyes Open
Eyes open, which knew that opening day
when all was fresh as ocean spray’s first lung.
Undone — the dark and empty tomb,
Far-sprung — the light on night’s last dew
As you, O Lord, first opened eyes anew
and saw…what did you see, you who have seen me
in shame wrapped tight,
in dazed dark night,
When you first woke up on the edge of dawn?
Perhaps you saw the dreams of death undrawn
as you unspun the cloth around your head?
Or did you look upon the end
when all are wed as one to you?
Your hands and feet were marked, what else was new
when you first saw your naked form again?
You know. And I can say, “Amen!
Come soon, so we can all see too.”