You don’t have to look far to find ugly.
It’s there in the news.
It’s there on your computer.
You can find it in the tone of your very own voice.
And as much as we’d like to erase it,
make it disappear with our magic mummy wands,
one day our children will find out about ugly.
Or maybe it’s ugly that will find out about them.
My fingers are blue with the telling of it.
All that rolling eggs round till they come up like the sky.
And we said it was like the stone rolling,
opening up that cave-tomb
two millennia ago.
And we speak of the first Good Friday,
and how strange that we call it all good,
when there came then the ugliest ugly
that ever was
or ever will be.
From the kitchen window I watch them,
red-breasted robins against the flat, dry brown.
And I know it means winter was beaten,
and I smile at the green that will come.
A great kafuffle and we’re out there,
tramping the brown with our boots.
And I stop them once or twice just to point out
where a bulb or a bud has poked through.
And I’m breathing in the sweet smell of new life,
and I’m thanking Him there’s such a thing as grace.
Because today there was plenty of ugly
In my heart, in my voice, in my face.
You don’t have to look far to find ugly.
Ugly always finds some way in.
And how could I even bear it?
Go on pretending that everything’s great
If it wasn’t.
Really wasn’t.
If I couldn’t look them in the eye and tell them
That ugly won’t win.
No, ugly won’t win, precious children.
Because His grave didn’t hold death in.
And the last time we lock eyes
won’t really be the last.
Oh, my sweet ones,
He has conquered death and sin.
And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
– Revelation 21:5
Avonlea x
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