The Sabbath Sleep
What hard travail God does in death! He strives in sleep, in our despair, And all flesh shudders underneath The nightmare of His sepulcher. The earth shakes, grinding its deep stone; All night the cold wind heaves and pries; Creation strains sinew and bone Against the dark door where He lies. The stem bent, pent in seed, grows straight And stands. Pain breaks in song. Surprising The merely dead, graves fill with light Like opened eyes. He rests in rising. (Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems)
The Gospel of John begins by linking itself to the book of Genesis with its first words…
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