Chest heaving, eyes weeping,
The tomb blurs before my eyes.
How is everyone else still sleeping
When my Savior doesn’t arise?

Oh, how the doubt roars within me,
His words now seem to me as His rotting flesh,
“I will rise on day three,”
But his body is now stolen, unless…

Dirt clenching onto my dress,
I fling the tears from my eyes,
Trying to decide if… Yes!
There are people by his graveside.

Angels they must be, all in white,
And before I can confirm their existence, they speak:
“Woman, why are you weeping at this sight?”
My anger flares as I try to control my speech.

“Because my Lord has been taken away,
And I don’t know where his body is.”
I attempt to keep my temper at bay,
Turning away to abate my boiling fears.

Then I see the gardener, and a flash of brilliance
Or desperation rises in me, which one I don’t know,
But as I open my mouth to ask about my Lord’s disappearance,
He speaks: “Why are you weeping woman, why such sorrow?”

Again the same question, yet I cannot form
An adequate response; how can one describe
The loss of Him who can calm the storm,
But now has left my world in turmoil at his sacrifice?

My anger reaches the heavens now,
And in irritation I retort, “If you have taken Him away,
Tell me where He is, and I will take him from thou.”
Chest heaving, eyes weeping, I glance away.

But then I hear my name, soft and sweet but firm,
Two syllables, a clear “Mary!”
And I turn
And my unbridled joy at seeing him turns into “Rabboni!”

I ponder for a second what it’s like to feel
Sadness, for in that split second, it’s gone,
It’s been replaced by rejoicing and zeal,
And I resist the urge to leap with the dawn.

How could I have ever doubted?
Of course His words are true,
It’s a reality that must be shouted,
Yet all I can do is stare at him now that he’s in my view.

“Do not cling to me,” he says earnestly
“For I still must ascend to my Father,
And please tell our friends this, for certainly
I ascend to My God and your God, My Father and your Father.”

It was good he said this, for I had forgotten
In my excitement to see my Savior; I’m sure
His disciples must have wondered whether their Lord had rotted:
“I’m leaving right now, my Savior!”

Sandals rubbing into callouses, lungs heaving,
I ran back to town, through the streets that
Once knew me in despair, grieving,
Hardly stopping, for I had no time to chat.

My Savior has risen, he is alive and well,
He has saved us lost sheep who have gone astray,
And although He no longer on Earth will dwell,
He will never allow us to fully decay.

I’m sure when you die he will call your name too,
With a voice soft and sweet but firm and so true,
And you will go be with Him and He’ll make you brand-new,
And we’ll all live forever from our own Easter morning, too.

And there lay his body,
Peaceful
sleeping
In a pristine coffin,
Ready for the funeral service
The room is full of loved ones,
The people who gave him life
They gather
waiting for any more guests,
Unaware that the most important one is already here

The grim reaper is here with his sythe
Ready to bring this man's soul
to the next life

But as he looks at the man
He weeps
He cries, for the reaper never wanted this job
He never wanted to be
In between life and death
He never wanted to be the one to guide tortured souls,
to see their pain
and then have to send them
to heaven or hell

The reaper cries too
He cries for the souls who never got to finish their life
He cries for the mothers, fathers, children, uncles, sisters
He cries for what they left behind

For fate is cruel
And no one decides
when their time stops
The reaper cries,
the rivers and rain fill with sorrow
The reaper cries
And the sea feels his pain

But when people think of him,
They blame him for taking their loved ones
They cry and mourn
Unaware that
The reaper cries too

Be still , and abide  in the Lord everyday.
Be still, and wait for the Lord to lead you.
Be still, and listen for the Lord to answer.
Be still, and Lean on the Lord always too.
Follow, the Lord for he shall lead you here.
Follow, the Lord to the road he leads you to.
Follow , for the Lord knows your every step.

It's not black & white,
It's blooming with color.
Complicated and simple at once.
The opening of flowers,
One by one,
Petals falling,
Onto stone.
We live, we die.
The story is what matters.
Not the ending.
Today may be a page,
Possibly a sentence.
And tomorrow?

tiny fingers and tiny toes
silent baby, why must you go?

you left so soon, you left me broken
all your words still yet unspoken

all your life was yet to live
i know you had so much to give

but you will never shed a tear
my weeping will not reach your ear

for in His arms you'll gently lay
and for you I will always pray

no pain or sorrow will you feel
that thought alone will help me heal

and when I meet you there one day
with you i'll forever stay


m.g.