For Long Remembering
By Berta H. Christensen
The moon is white above Gethsemane,
The shadowed night is radiant as the day,
For he is risen and at last is free
Of earth – free of the tomb wherein he lay.
I bore my Son to live. In days to come –
When they who sought to snare him as a bird
Are one with dust, and nothing but the sum
Of their deceit remains – his every word,
Treasured for long remembering, shall be
As living water never found before.
And even they beyond the barrier sea
Who are athirst and drink, shall thirst no more.
But they shall find his word a sign to tell
Which way the shining road to Sychar’s well.