.
Sunrise at the Hollywood Bowl
A sleepy son, a father who mourned still.
Their first time greeting Easter since she died.
When illness came, Anne said her fondest will
Was that their boy know God. John set aside
His doubts. He searched for two seats near the side.
John missed his wife—Anne’s laugh, her patient tone.
At least his drinking stopped—a useless crutch
Which interfered with raising Matt alone.
But John still lacked Anne’s faith and gentle touch;
Her wisdom when the world became too much.
Another twenty minutes till the sun
Was due to rise above Cahuenga Pass.
Matt’s eyes were closed. John rocked his sleeping son.
Some families spread blankets on the grass
While volunteers and priests set up for Mass.
Musicians took their place. A choir too
Whose bright-hued robes were patterned like a cross.
The sky showed streaks of pink. A soft wind blew
Across this gathering of mortal dross.
It hinted at redemption despite loss.
The service would soon start. John woke his son.
“Matt, can you guess the reason why we’re here?”
The yawning boy said. “Sure. To greet the sun!
Today’s the holiest of all the year
For Easter means God’s love shines bright and clear!
“Two thousand years ago the world was sad.
Then Jesus came. He taught and healed. Some men
Thought He was wrong and they got very mad.
They nailed Him to a cross to die. But then
He conquered death and came alive again.
“Mom taught me that. I know she was a friend
Of Jesus from the joyful way she’d pray.
Sure, death might come, but love would never end.
Trust God, she said. And Dad, I do! Each day!
Please know that we’ll see Mom again someday!“
John stared at Matt, then kissed his head with pride,
For his young boy had faith just like his mom.
John pictured Anne and for the last time cried,
As Matt’s “I love you, Dad” helped bring him calm.
The crowd then stood to sing the Easter psalm.
John held Matt’s waist and sang through joyous tears.
He heard God’s voice at last within the song.
The brilliant sunrise burned away his fears
And hope refilled his heart after so long.
A child’s simple faith had made him strong.
.
.
Brian Yapko is a lawyer who also writes poetry. He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
This story of a child’s faith and love is a fine representation of the Hollywood Bowl sunrise service. It’s filled with families, and though the site offers a magnificent natural display of new light when the sun rises, the sight of children present outdoes the theatricality of the music and other human features of the spectacle. Thanks, Brian, and have a blessed Easter!
Thank you very much, Margaret. From your comment I infer that you have actually been to a Bowl sunrise service. I’m pleased that you think my depiction captured some of what Easter is like at that amazing outdoor event! I’m especially glad you appreciated my depiction of “a child’s faith and love” because that, for me, is an essential aspect of Christian faith. I’ve read Aquinas and Maimonides and after a lifetime of overthinking the matter, I’ve come to the conclusion that the most profound admonitions of Jesus are the simplest: Matthew 18, Jesus tells us “whosever shall humble himself at this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Thank you, Brian.
You are so welcome, Sally! Thank you for reading and commenting on my little story.
Beautiful poem Brian, thank you.
He is risen, risen indeed!
Thank you very much, Wayne. And Amen!
Brian, I love everything about this poem. You capture a heartfelt moment that connects with me. My dear friend died on Easter Sunday, 2000 leaving behind a husband and 12-year-old daughter. The scene you portray is tangible and beautiful. There is nothing like a child’s perspective in sorrowful times – children are blessed with the gift of seeing through pure eyes, eyes unsullied by the complexities of life and you capture that perfectly. You also make the point that our words and deeds live on in the future generations. Thankfully, Matt’s mother’s words were a gift to him. A wonderful lesson for this Easter. Thank you for this touching and meaningful poem, Brian, and a very Happy Easter to you!
Susan, thank you so much for your heartfelt comment. I’m grateful for your words and for your sharing the sad experience of your dear friend’s passing. But if there’s ever a calendar day appropriate for contemplating eternal life it’s Easter Sunday. I fully agree about the eyes — and souls — of children. They often have a way of getting right to the heart of things without being burdened with so many grown-up distractions that obfuscate what it true and real and lovely. It’s a great blessing to know, as well, that what we say and do matters in this life, that memories matter.
Brian, I wonder if you knew the family mentioned in this lovely poem. As Susan said, children are the future for us all and I hope their world will be as good to them as ours has been to us. Thank you again for yet another heartfelt piece. Best wishes once more for a happy Easter.
Thank you for your kind words, Jeff. The family in the poem is fictional but somehow, in creating them, they spoke to me. Children are indeed our future and it is important, I believe, for them to be raised with faith. In times of great conflict it is faith that will allow them the optimism and the boundaries to find and protect goodness in an otherwise bitter world.
Very poignant story telling, Brian. “… this gathering of mortal dross” is such a moving phrase, reminiscent of Luke 14: 21, “Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind” — who are us, brought in to Christ’s banquet. He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Thank you very much, Cynthia! Alleluia, indeed! Amen.
Brian, your story is a moving illustration of the Easter message as it relates to family. Thank you for this lovely poem. Wishing you all the best for Easter.
Thank you very much, David! And the same to you and yours!