Atwood, Margaret: Resurrection

I see now I see now
I cannot see.
Earth is a blizzard in my eyes.

I hear now
The rustle of the snow.
The angels
Listening above me.
Thistles
Bright with sleet…
gathering.
Waiting for the time
To reach me up
To the pillared sun,
The final city,
or living towers
unrisen yet.
Whose dormant stones
Lie folding
Their holy fire
Around me.

But the land shifts with frost
And those who have become
The stone voices of the land
Shift also, and say…

GOD is not the voice in the whirlwind.
GOD is the whirlwind.

At the last judgment
We will all be
TREES.