Rev. T. C. Pfizenmaier: Winter Kenosis

Ann Morrison
By Ann Morrison March 14, 2017 10:18

Winter Kenosis

All is gone in winter time.

Branches stripped, bare of summer glory.

Majesty become humility.  Fullness, emptiness.

Light become darkness.  Softness, hardness.

Nature’s palette turning there, colorless, stark, and bleak.

But only a reflection is this of a deeper winter shedding.

Glory abandoned for ordinary.  Strength emptied into weakness.

Long journey ended, yet plummet just begun.

Divine eyes dilate to absorb the darkness.

Word assumes flesh.  Nature receives again divinity—finally it begins.

But strangely.

Himself, part of the great dying now, he comes.

The way back forever sealed, by heaven’s own flashing swords.

Only the way forward now, into the yawning human canyon

eclipsed by a shadow called time.

Into the winter now.  Into the lostness.  Into the emptiness.

Into the dark wood of humanity’s goneness.

All is gone in winter time.

Branches stripped bare of summer glory.

Majesty become humility.  Fullness, emptiness.

Light become darkness.  Softness, hardness.

Nature’s palette turning there, colorless, stark, and bleak.

There He finds them, his brothers and sisters.

In the farness he finds them lost and shattered,

and makes his home with them there.

He enters into them.  He sinks down further,

into the water of their failing and their falling.

He makes it all his own.  He takes title to their agony with his blood’s dark ink.

There, among them, his branches too are stripped.

He too is laid both bare and barren now, in the womb of the earth.

He is rocked in death’s cradle by that most malevolent hand.

Winter, his habitation now.

All is gone in winter time.

Branches stripped bare of summer glory.

Majesty become humility.  Fullness, emptiness.

Light become darkness.  Softness, hardness.

Nature’s palette turning there, colorless, stark, and bleak.

He and all of nature, wrapped together now in the tomb of death.

They wait, forever together now.

As one, they wait for Spring…

 

©Thomas C. Pfizenmaier 2014

Ann Morrison
By Ann Morrison March 14, 2017 10:18
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