Poem January 24, 1983 Issue

In the waiting garden

TRAILL C. FLETCHER

Surely no bird sang
There was no squeaking of the hunting bat
Nor rustling of lizard
At the cave's mouth
In the waiting garden
At that moment
When Lazarus came blindly
From the grave.

O tired hope
O superstitious fear
O mustard seed of faith!

His sisters heard their
Master's next command
"Loose him, and let him go."

Dear anguished ones
Who clothed him in your grief
And hid mortality within a cave
His graveclothes were but shadows
Of your thought.

Now band by band unwind this false belief
And from his eyes let binding napkin fall
And from your own.

TRAILL C. FLETCHER

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Editorial
Steadfastness and healing
January 24, 1983
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