Satan Rejoices:
On Day when Life Resurrects,
Lives sacrificed to despise Life,
that Death begets Death
and Death is stronger than Life.

Satan Rejoices:
For Lies are believed and Died for,
that the Desecration of Life's Sanctity
and Usurpation of God's Authority
are rewarded and glorifies God.

Satan Rejoices:
Brother turns against Brother,
Cain reigned supreme,
Circle of Revenge and Hatred turns,
Evil and Sword worshiped.

But Abel's blood still speaks
Blood-soaked Earth's cries are heard
Victory is assured but unseen
Patience is mercy not weakness
Evil shall judge Evil

Daffodils in full bloom
The perfume coming from the grape hyacinth

One red-winged blackbird calls to his mate
The bluebirds guard their nest

Clear blue skies make way for the intensifying spring sun

A delicious brunch is cooking in the oven
We are about to have some fun

Cheers to new beginnings and the best time of the year

I’m so relieved, my eyes are wet with happy tears

Once, Jesus said, you are saved. But I wonder.
Save for later? Save, is in, extract the good parts?
Save like, save the best for last? Or maybe:
Good save! Because I was right on the cusp of
falling on my face with my foot in my mouth.

Save, perhaps, like save the future and all humanity?
Or like a goalie keeps a ball from sailing into a net. To save us
from the Damnable Score. Or no—save to fix later.
Like a broken-down truck with a cracked engine
you might, some day, get to.

No, no, none of that fits, I conclude as I pour out a
second cup of bitterly strong coffee when I should be
at church on Easter Sunday.

There’s nothing to save. And who would know better about
what worth saving than me? This, as I pour the undeniably
burned second cup of coffee down the drain.

The big story of this day is Jesus’ Resurrection from death.
It will be celebrated in homes and churches throughout the world.
But I think Jesus is more interested in us than us celebrating him.
He wants us to recognize
and celebrate the way we rise
from our darkness, and digressions
failures, weakness, sadness and depression.

When Jesus was on Earth he was honest.  He was himself.
That’s what got him in trouble.
He teaches me to subdue the anger and every hint of violence inside
to be true to the unique creature his Father has crafted
not special or above the rest of ordinary men
just different and true to my own voice.

Unlike Jesus, I am not that courageous and mighty with the power of love.
I still fantasize doing damage to those whom I deem evil
still I care too much about what others think
about how I look or sound in public.

I am unlike Jesus in too many ways,
but I am like him in my rising from darkness and doom
from my own self-made tomb.
My resurrections might be tiny
but large is the Spirit in me
and the ability to see
the light
to see the right
and pursue it wherever it leads
into meadows and into the weeds
away from tradition and my roots
beyond my past moorings
toward truth
and its small soarings
telling my little stories
from death to glory.

Quiet room and quiet cry.
Tears have paths and there they lie,
on my face as she says 'bye'.

I thought this Easter is with you,
Got blinded by pink hue,
Rose tinted glasses slowly turned blue.

I hope this new person understands,
And she will want us holding hands,
Oh what could my broken heart dream of?

Now I'm in white sitting at the table,
The background noise is our cable,
I'm not talking to my angel anymore.

What you said and what I did,
This innocent little kid,
Inside me,
Is now dying.

But I'll celebrate our Teacher,
Our God and our Preacher,
Who died for all these sins,
And now I see that love wins.