The sun rose again at dawn
lilies opened blasting praise
I found a road to walk on
to face my fear and malaise.

How have you risen today?

A son forgave his errant dad
A father forgave his son’s sin
from their chains they got unclad
and found a way to begin again.

How have you risen today?

My wife and friend came with me
to church and sang and listened
were open and willing to see
the light and my eyes glistened.

How have you risen today?

Confused and lost I’d gone astray
and thought I was dying inside
gave up on finding the way
learned I could still come alive.

How have you risen this day?

Today I found a new truth
that if you are really inside
I’ll always be in my youth
and when I die I too will arise.

That’s a few other ways you’ve risen today.

“How have you risen today?” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier

Man on the cross

save us from walls

against hungry souls

raised by pedantic cons

to push Your words

from pulpits of arrogance


Barterers of crux for coins

lords over Scriptures

life, land, and heavens

offering rapture

as if a mop to wash

parlors of decadence


Is nothing holy

to bias and cruel hearts

architects of churches

that glorify wrong to divide

from pews that claim

You as their candy man


Staring at the cross

blood from thorns

did your mother weep

for hammerers of nails

or promise burning

those who reject lies


Is there resurrection

for throwers of spears

users of Your name

as a nine-ball

in pockets of greed

made-to-order redemption


Will self-proclaimed sages

accept your color of origin

not in a suit but rags

or claim you are Satan

to condemn and justify


Feel stones cry

The world lies in a quiescent state;
Darkness robs even more of the light
from a planet
steadily growing colder.

Sounds of the breeze exhaling down the
spine of the Old Oak makes me
cringe. What's happened
to the songs of the forest?

This woodland heart, frozen solid by
Old Man Winter's icy fingertips,
sleeps peacefully
among lives that are on pause.

A bitter kiss from the old man's lips
and we are prepared for our slumber.
Eternal dreams
preface our resurrection.

The morning came slowly on that third day
The sun wondered how it might be able to shine through such darkness
The tears of the earth came early in the dew that morning
The flowers began to bloom in an open defiance to the earth
Perhaps the decaying body of the Lord gave them new life

The birds sang songs of jubilee that morning, as if there were reason for joy
Did they not know that the Light of the World had been snuffed out?
Did they not know that the one who fed them had gone away?
Did they not know that their creator lay below them dead in the ground?
Or did they sing defiantly knowing what we yet did not know?

Much like it had been in Bethlehem decades before, the world was silent
Breaking the silence like the Divine Child’s cries, somewhere a child cried
As if this child knew that his Lord lay dead below the earth
As if he could feel the thick darkness that surrounded him
But then, in defiance like only a child could bring, the first laughter in days

The new world was cold, dark, and bitter, and a child dared to laugh
While the rest of the world cried and mourned the death of their only hope
This child laughed while the birds sang and the flowers bloomed
It was as if they did not know that the Life of the World was still dead
Rather, though, it was as if they had read the prophets of old, and believed

When the sun finally rose, it could not shine through the thick darkness
We lived in a dark purgatorial world where we awaited the judgement
What a terrible judgement that must be coming toward us
We, who drove the nails into His hands, and gave Him over to death
But then, a glimmer of light comes upon the horizon

The light was not the rising of the sun, but some holy other
Those disciples who had run away while He hung on the cross ran again
This time not away from their Savior, but toward that otherworldly light
When they came to where He has been buried, they fell upon their faces
The brightest light to ever grace this old world poured out of the tomb

Then they heard a voice, the voice of the Risen Lord
‘Rise up you men of earth’ He said to the men lying facedown
‘Rise up oh you sleepers!’
‘Behold the Light of the World is upon you’
It was then that the world began its slow change

The cosmos, which had fractured so long ago in Eden, began to mend
Dead men rose to new life
Dark places were then filled with life
The world became a new place where the old had passed away
Every crack and crevice filled with an uncreated light never before seen

For the Lord has risen from the dead!
Indeed He has defeated death!
And forever, we shall keep the feast !
Alleluia!

easter cool is fun when the holy day is done
because the holiday began with jesus rising from the grave
the way we celebrate's by eating candies that we crave
that strangely enough were planted in our backyards by a giant anthropomorphic bunny that stands approximately six feet four inches tall and one day decided that he would take it upon himself to commemorate the return of jesus christ our lord and savior by laying eggs full of jelly beans on the private property of innocent Americans i mean who gave this thing permission to do so how does he even lay the eggs and for that matter how does he get the candy in there did he create the candy or buy it from a supermarket if the latter is the case then how did nobody notice the  giant anthropomorphic bunny that stands approximately six feet four inches tall in the snack aisle did none of the employees at this establishment find that a little bit strange or are they used to it at this point do they just wait for the abomination against god and man to walk in once a year and buy the entire store's stock of candy and while we're on the topic how about we confront the question that we all have which is what gender is it like i know i've been saying "he" which i guess is the general assumption but still none of us know for sure maybe it doesn't even have a gender because of its  mythical and magical and legendary status which makes me wonder what gender god is because it's kind of a similar thing in a way like everybody knows the easter bunny is a thing but nobody really gives it a gender we just say "he" because why not and we do the same thing with god in the bible they say "he" and "father" so we still do today but times were different then and we live in a very progressive day and age so people are starting to question the idea of assigning a gender to a deity that we can't even see or fully comprehend so how are we supposed to figure out if it's a boy or a girl or what race it is even that's a good question too what race is god and for that matter what race is jesus many would say white but once again that's because white people during times of accepted inequality couldn't imagine their saviour being any other color but if you think about it he was born near the middle east or somewhere around that region so it seems odd that he would be white at all but who knows really maybe white people lived in the middle east back then or maybe jesus's parents were the black sheep of the place they lived in or white sheep i guess it depends on whether or not you're trying to stay accurate to the analogy or make a clever point on race by flipping it to white sheep instead of black jesus was probably seen as a black sheep okay definitely that's why they killed him and then three days later he proved them all wrong by coming back from the dead which then birthed the holiday of easter which oddly enough we celebrate by eating candy that was given to us by a giant anthropomorphic bunny that stands approximately six feet four inches tall

All is dark except I see
These extended arms in front of me
They are waving, trembling
I barely have the sight to see
These open hands in front of me
They are reaching, searching
I hardly have the light to see
These stretching fingers in front of me
They are straining, grasping

As I watch, how strangely familiar I find
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What could fill them
That would still them?
As I look, I realize that they’re mine
these arms, these hands, these fingers
What could hold them
That would console them?

In this darkness, am I the only one who sees
The struggle in front of me?
It is desperate, helpless

All is numb except I feel
This empty space inside of me
It is widening, deepening
I only have the sense to feel
This growing hunger inside of me
It is pressing, aching
My nerves are acute just to feel
This enduring famine inside of me
It is agonizing, deadly

This pain worsens with the sight of
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What would occupy them
That would satisfy them?
I am feeling exhausted by the fight of
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What could nourish me
That would flourish me

In this void, am I the only one aware
Of the pain inside of me?
I am in anguish, pleading

Through the darkness, I finally see
Two different hands reaching out to me
They are calloused, scarred
Closing this void, I begin to feel
Such merciful love consuming me
It is boundless, overflowing
I find new life the moment I take
These hands that defeated death for me
It is abundant, eternal

The fullest joy He freely offers with
His arms, His hands, His fingers
His love fills me
Peace stills me
His gentleness holds me
Grace consoles me
To this joy I’ll always cling with
My arms, my hands, my fingers
His presence occupies me
Truth satisfies me
His word nourishes me
Hope flourishes me

In those depths, why was I so unaware
Of Him standing right in front of me
He is my stronghold, Deliverer

When you spent so much time
at work and school
social activities and non-profits
doing art and homework and making money
And wondering what sleep feels like
that you don't see your family for like a year
so when you see them on Easter
You are neon pink amd pistachio cream
in a sea of Blues and greys
Everyone is polite and lovely
You want to blend in
But Everything you say is out of context
Because %75 of your lifestyle is based
In being REAL gay
and you aren't sure
if they remember
You are REAL gay.
Or Polyamorous
Orthat when you say you were beaten that's
A GOOD THING
so you kinda just watch everyone else
And hope nobody is offended
By you smiling at them.

No one dies today
Only our doubts
No one lives today
Only our souls
Speak if you can
Believe what you must
I will pray upon my heart
and not ancient scrolls

Like a Roman soldier
Who knows the truth
Apart from his people
And those who follow
To choose to walk alone
To know the faith of a bird
It is the life of my heart
Living with joy and sorrow

The is no judgment
For we are the miracle
The mistakes of a stranger
Are the same as mine
It is what I know
The question is how
The spirit is risen in me
Yet still I remain blind

I would cry like a baby
If my child would suffer
I would know then why I live
But why must I leave them
They will grow in time
And I will shrink to nothing
Is it then that a dying man asks
For a new father to save him?

the worship service looks full this morning
though, admittedly, i haven't been
in attendance since Christmas.
families in their Sunday best
sit on wooden pews
in a patriarchal church
that spent its tithings
on a multi-million dollar
gymnasium rather than the poor
their savior told them to look out for.

men, women, and children
awkwardly pretend
to sing contemporary hymns
beneath their breath,
hoping no one will notice
as they pick their noses,
thinking absently of Easter dinner.

i write poems
while the pastor prattles,
his shallow words
an empty drone
filling my ears
with white noise.

i feel myself drifting.
i haven't been sleeping
lately. the news has got me thinking
each passing day might be our last
on planet Earth and i'll be incensed
if i waste one minute more
than necessary
in this cramped
and ugly church,
a sanctuary smelling faintly
of old ladies, cheap perfume,
and wilted flowers dying silently.

just one more week
and i'll have been
god-free for half a decade.
for now,
i grin and bear the tedium
and mourn the tarnished legacy
of the radical rabbi,
a Nazarene who took on an Empire
and died by his convictions.

i daresay,
he'd be rolling in his grave
if he could see
these rich, white
Presbyterians sullying
his good name—
provided, of course,
he'd not so famously
vacated the premises.