O my scarlet carnation, your iron-fresh scent, and the torn, spiked edges of your dying outflesh for me the colors of God’s blood, God’s body.
O my sharp clove, your dark nail probes my hand. You stud my open palm (a small, pink Easter ham) with poignancy, pinning me to your final clench of cross-pain.
O my asparagus— with the cleansing sprinkle of your fern, your up-greening from the ground, your stalked asperity under the butter sauce— awaken me to resurrection.
O my avocado, your vegetable comfort calls my name. Teach me the colors of growing. Within your purpled leather rind disclose your sumptuous spirit, your oil-hearted seed.
Luci Shaw is the author most recently of Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit (Nelson).
Copyright © 2008 by the author or Christianity Today/Books & Culture magazine. Click here for reprint information on Books & Culture.
