by Laurence D. Behr
Praise to You, O Mighty God Who Makes
the tiny, frozen tree-tip buds burst forth
eternal troves of quintessential Life
in spurting, fragrant sweet-green sprays and sprigs
of Joy extracted from the inert Earth!
Praise to You, O Mighty God Whose Power
occult, unseen by vile souls unclean
invades each molecule of soil, air
and water, commanding icy Death
to yield, give way to nascent Life, and flower!
Praise to You, O Mighty God Whose Art
instructs the sweetest little birdlings in
their songs, and teaches too the humble worms
how they churn best Earth's warm, inviting breast,
that suckles now another round of Birth!
Praise to You, O Mighty God Whose Love
reviled, disregarded, spat upon
and curst relentlessly, unflinchingly,
unthinkingly returns, again and yet
again, against all hope insists we are all Yours!
(Laurence D. Behr is Executive Director of the Association for the Arch of Triumph Of the Immaculate Heart of Mary and Int'l Shrine Of the Holy Innocents.)
Copyright Laurence D. Behr, 1999