A Poem for Holy Week

The Seed Pod


I walked along a quiet lake today,
And found a seed pod along the way.
Long and leathery, it outlined so tight
Tomb-door shapes, darkly out of sight.
Each had a slightly different shape,
Some a Gothic arch, some a rounded cape.
All are bound until sun, soil, and rain
Allow the casings that restrain
To rot or tear away, setting each one free
So they might, in strength, grow the tree
From where they first originated,
And for which they were created.


So we, in some unmeasured season,
Will be released, revealing the reason
Our restricting pods were closed to grow
Us into the likeness of Him we know
Broke from His cave of death
Bringing new life and spirit-breath
To those who lay entrapped by sin.
Indeed we need not strive to win,
Or make the changes we think just,
But only love and know, obey and trust
All God has powerfully given
In Christ who, then and now, has risen!


--Hope Ellen Rapson, Holy Week 2015