When Hope Died

Oh it was bleak
Those days in between.
When hope was dead.
Not wounded or missing, ill or asleep
but dead.

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Lamb followed freely
to the execution tree
And before their own eyes,
hope breathed his last.

Spear pierced in, evidence poured out
Body was lowered, wrapped-up, entombed.
Hope said it himself, with final exhale:
It is finished.

What was finished? Light? Life?
Goodness? Hope?
Darkness cackled
Death crowed
Evil cheered
Despair rose.

But sun set, and sun rose.
And sun set, and sun rose.
And sun set, and sun rose.

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And then.

And then what was hidden, rushed forth
What was humiliated became adored
What was impossible, came to be
What was bound broke free.

Gentle Lamb burst forth as Lion,
Principalities bowed to his will:
Nature, time, science– jumped to his bidding,
Light blinded darkness, death couldn’t prevail.

But oh.

Oh it seems bleak, in this time in between.
Darkness spreading, breeding, boasting.
Seeming to conquer, seeming to win.
Light seems dimmer, good is thinner,
hope seems farer, evil feels stronger
As we wait our three days of darkness.

We wait our time in between
The empty tomb but a prelude
of the glory we hope to see.
For death was defeated for always,
and darkness of soul can be lit.
He who drowns can be caught up and rescued
she who’s soiled can be washed and redeemed.

For Lamb laid down without struggle
burst forth as Lion from grave.
We hold this hope in these vessels.
Because Our Hope died
Because Our Hope lives.

© 2018 Rachel Allord

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Abigail says:

    Hallelujah to the Lion-Lamb who has “caused us to be born again into a living HOPE through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” Glory to God!
    Gorgeous poem, you.

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