1. Friday
*
We leave
the Skull,
each
buried
in
isolation’s
tomb
(my God!)
to tremble
empty
home.
*
So sure!
that He had been
the One,
our faith faints
at Death’s taunts,
and Memory
only burns.
*
Alone,
we
wait
together,
*
dead.
*
2 thoughts on “Easter poem (part 1)”
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Hard to imagine what it was like for the disciples in those hours and days after the cross. What joy in hearing Jesus confirm Peter’s words, “You are the Christ.” How much pent-up Jewish desire/hope in that name, Messiah. And now, was he just another of the wannabies? Was he really what Gamaliel would say, a leader misleading his crowd to death and scattering. How dark was the night, how terrifying the light. Every sound, soldier, enemy, who’s there. But greater than the fear of prison, I think, was the loss of hope, the confusion about high expectations shattered. How drab and empty a return to “normal” must have been. May the joy of Easter color our lives with hope and make us “wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.” Blessed Easter, Mel.
Well said, John. Thank you.