Easter Eggs: A Poem for Resurrection People

A poem written several years ago with II Corinthians 4:7-8 and II Corinthians 12:9-10 in mind.

I'm thinking of Easter and eggs.

Not the bunny bearing baskets of rainbow treasure boxes brimming ​with jelly beans
hidden in tall grasses and behind euonymus bushes

But of resurrection and of fragility,
especially fragility.

But we are the resurrection people already!
Yes, and not yet.

We are as fragile as a newly laid chicken egg.
Even the turquoise Easter eggs of the Ameraucana.

We choose to dress up our fragility in Faberge
or harden ourselves slowly
in a boiling cauldron of anger and jealousy.
Both crack when dropped or mishandled
revealing nothing or hardness.

But what if we admitted that we are still not yet
even as we are already?

Exposed our ordinary fragility that leaks life
when dropped or mishandled—by life.

What if we proclaimed that we all are broken,
the dozen cast aside by those seeking candy, elegance
or the sunny-side up?

What if we trusted
that our Creator chooses what is rejected?
Knowing that inside new life is already being formed
and the cracks will be a blessing when it's time
for it to be born.  

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