Feeling my mortality after a week dimmed by my friend's death, I remember my faith in the renewal of our bodies.
Fit for Heaven's Sports
by Gideon Burton
With vibrant, living voice, with muscles strong
To push against the hard, ungiving earth;
With eyes to scan horizons deep and long;
With breath, alive with rhythm from our birth–
I have in restful nights upheld a hope
I know is woven in our tissues, bright,
Ascending well above the aspen slope
Of patience, thickly sound and richly light:
Our skin grown supple once again, our hair
Restored in lengthy fitness, every limb
Full ready for the day and then to spare.
Each cup of juice is filling to its brim
My body, broken, weak and out of sorts
Will rise with apter arms for heaven’s sports.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - rosswebsdale