In this poem, the author and speaker are not the same (specifically in the first two stanzas). I do have a sense of grief, but it’s not out of my personal experience or loss. It’s much more about grieving with those who grieve, and longing for That Day.
“That Day Is Not Here Yet”
Where, O Death, is thy sting?
It’s here, piercing my soul,
Draining me of all I once assumed.
I know someday I’ll laugh,
Reminiscing, as of a dream,
The pain so engulfing today.
But That Day is not here yet.
Grief is all I know.
Today’s victory is another’s,
And this my only comfort:
The victory of the grave is not eternal.
But today the piled dirt and hard cold stone
Keep me anchored to this world,
Even as I long for another.
I live in the pain of this tension:
The Already and the Not Yet.
Jesus is life and hope.
And hope does not disappoint.
(Except in this shortsighted fact that)
We hope because we see not.
That Day is not here yet.
Death is already conquered,
But it is the enemy to be destroyed last.
Earning wages of the Fall, we all with Adam die
Even as all in Christ will be made alive.
Everything within me groans, with all creation,
For the reconciliation and final redemption
When all things will be made new.
There is hope.
But That Day is not here yet.
