Jesus Appears to the Disciples

 

i

 

doors locked,

they hold the air in stagnant stasis

an undivided stench of defeat

despite whispers to the contrary

 

suffocated by panic

fear’s fingers close over mouths

around hearts

constricting hope

 

despite the breath she struggles

to breathe in to familiar lives

 

 

ii

 

no wonder one escapes

to walk his fear in streets that remind

of what was taken, done, destroyed

 

does he sit in an empty tomb

a vacated womb

where, only remaining,

a vacant shroud,

scented with possibilities

lays still discarded on stone.

 

he alone

to watch and wonder.

reminding him the One is born

no longer here

but gone

 

 

iii

 

the room is broken

by the presence of defiance

as scars declare

a disregard

for death’s mistaken power

 

Peace be with you

 

probing fingers penetrating scars

to hold doubt at bay

 

receiving,

believing,

 

they are still prisoners

in a way

 

 

iv

 

the fear in the one who was absent,

but present to the world,

returns in wonder

a reminder

that for all they have touched

been given

they still have not risked

the light of the world.

 

 

Day 47, Luke 24.1-12: The Testimony of Witnesses

Hear my idle tale.

I do not care about your disbelief,

test it if you must,

but know his body is not claimed by dust.

 

Here there is emptiness

that is not bleak despairing.

Instead hear the whispers of angels

who defy reason

and shake the foundations

that once made you secure

like the door that sealed the dead.

 

The unmovable is displaced,

as the sand is imprinted with studded footprints.