Practice Resurrection

In case any of y'all do not have the Magnificat's Lenten companion reader, here is the beautiful opening poem:

"Death and Love" by Rita A. Simmonds

Is it possible to love to the point of death,
Willingly, I say willingly?

No healthy balance.
No give and take.
But death --
One's final breath?

I do not talk of suicide,
an act of hate
that sees nothing
and cannot wait.
Nor Romeo
who couldn't see
that death was not
love's enemy.
I talk of death
love's secret lover,
who reveals the essence of the other.

A grain of wheat,
small, separated, fallen, alone,
that hits the ground without a sound
can remain consoled
knowing what it carries,
why it fell,
and when it's buried
what it still carries --
(and years from now
the field's glory
that sways the story
will want to know and tell).

But if we see no resurrection,
no golden field above the ground,
how do we die now?
And how can we say we will it so
when death is no true lover's goal?
Yet have we seen a heart let go
if love is what it holds?