by Richard Stoltzfoos
And the evening and the morning were the first day. —Gen. 1.5
When resurrection’s rest has come,
And sundown started the Sabbath day,
The saints will slip into skin again.
Their souls will slide in safe to home
With a throbbing thrill, through the soil
Into their earth-hid empty shells.
They rise rapidly, wriggling and twisting
Like seeds sprouting, the saints emerge,
Each buried body breaking free.
Into the evening all will leap
Like fireflies, from fields of sleep.
Richard Stoltzfoos is a follower of Christ and Gen-Z romantic living in wonder of the world around him.