When my friend Nancy, an
award-winning poet, died a few years ago, her family found the following
unpublished poem stuffed in her Holy Bible.
Let us feel you on our pulses
and in our breathing
and convince us in our very bodies
that we live and die
in the hollow of your hand.
Release now these mute longings
hidden in our hearts
to join the early morning bird song
singing green beginnings
and multicolored hopes
for you are shaking us and
shaping us into
a springtime people
with Easter in our eyes.
~ Nancy Frost Rouse
