Easter Morning

Easter Morning John 20:1-18
You know there are times
that we drag our feet
to a tomb of sorts.
Our hopes have died,
perhaps our love.
We come to grieve,
embalm the corpse,
or touch the stone
that seals in death 
and shuts us out.

The tomb gapes wide
and cracks our hearts.
There’s no excuse
to turn away
and stumble off
to find what’s left.
Courage demands
we enter in,
wonder at bindings
laid aside.

Somehow that absence
shocks our soul
more than the dead
requiring care.
Out we go crying
to vacant air.
Tears and anger
blur our eyes.

A stranger comes
and we accuse:
“What have you done
with what I loved!
Give me remains
that I need to tend,
so I’ll spend my tears
to some good end.”

We may hear a voice
that we thought was stilled
whisper our name.
The stranger becomes 
our closest kin.
We turn to this teacher
and try to cling.
We cannot hold on
to the one who ascends,
but we are like Mary,
commissioned to say
that we have encountered 
the Risen Lord.
The tomb is open
and life is beyond.