It was like an earthquake when it happened;

his soul dropping into the flayed flesh

with a thump.


He lay shocked by the immanence of the bloodied corpse

the frigid flesh and the cold of the darkling tomb.

He fought to move fingers

and lifted his head, scarred by thorns

and saw the fissures and flaws

created by sword and whip 

and nails and strangulation.


A beating blood pulsing heart;  

a breath filled breast and

each beat battering his pain filled 

feeble frame.


He felt the stirring of the breeze

through the open doorway, ruffling

his hair and warming his strength, sapped

muscles and stiffened scars which

crack open as he crawls on all fours 

to the wall where he pulled

himself to his nail holed feet.


The stone wall shifted under his hands 

but angels assisted,

while he shuffled his feet and a

groan echoed the grave.


Leaving the hallowed space

heaving his body across

the blinded garden, he moved more

freely each step of his naked self.


He leaned against the hand worn

wood; opened the door and took from 

a hook a handyman’s robe,

and wore its wealth of

hard work and harvests.


The light grew as if from him.


Resting for a moment he thought

to pray, but hurrying footsteps

raised his head

as his women exclaimed,

dropped their baskets and bolted,

panicked by an angel’s words.


He knew he could trust her as she

returned to the stones.   Peter and 

John running ahead of her

and then, leaving her to weep alone,

as they rushed off to ratify her report.


He rose, unsteady still,

slowly strolled over to her,

watched her stoop into the grave

twisting around as she heard his gait.


He looked at her and spoke his first words

‘Woman, Why are you weeping?’

Faithful Mary, asking 

for his body back with tears

 strewn on a grief shadowed face.


This was the moment, for which angels 

waited with wondering eyes,

bowed knees to the one who overcame.


His body and soul united uttered ‘Mary.” 

His love filled voice opened her eyes.


she reaching, he stepped back

from human embracing 

til he would be in union again.

He longed to hug and hold 

but knew resurrection was 

not something for possession

but for giving gratefully

and speaking release to his leader

said ,




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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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