EASTER SUNDAY POEM
My good friend, Peter Stiles penned this poem, seated in his garden after watching his church service online.
From concerning accounts of Covid cases
we have sheltered, mixing fear and sadness,
isolated in uncertainty.
Yesterday we walked the quiet streets
in silence, avoiding others passing by,
wan smiles of knowing, of dread.
An invisible enemy lurks in this season.
Holiday plans are cancelled,
trains are empty, roads deserted, caravans idle.
The only realm of movement is the virtual world,
The daily search for connection,
for traces of relief.
Or this garden seat, this morning, where, with
protected perspective, the natural world
persists unhindered, safe and still.
in the midst of a gentle incandescence,
a new day burning,
lies a beginning, this fresh hope.