we stood in the columbarium
well after sunrise
to speak of resurrection
with the names of those
who share death in common
as our backdrop
the whistle of trees
our soundtrack and
the promise of pancakes
waiting for us inside
as we retold the story I heard
the passive verb:
the stone was rolled away
as though coming back
to life were as easy as
sliding a door to find
the tomb as empty
as a bag of oreos
only the wrapper left
next to a smiling angel
later thomas would ask to
see Jesus’ pierced palms
but they only show he died
you must turn the hands over
look at the heart whose
knuckles are skinned
tiny cuts of commitment
fingernails filled with hope
coming back to life means
putting your shoulder into it
Peace,
Milton
I love this. Put my shoulder into it. I’m ready to try.
Trying here, too.
Those last two lines are full of meaning for me this morning. Thank you.