Breathe

What must it have been like on that early morning, millennia past,
to have walked faintly to the place where lay his beloved body —
once alive but now
stiff
silent
still
cold
in order to anoint the Anointed One
to prepare the one whose way had been prepared
to weep over the one who had wept over all creation —
only to find the stone rolled away.

What must it have been like on that early morning, millennia past,
to have stood fearfully in the place where lay only burial cloths —
once filled but now
discarded
scattered
useless
empty
to find angels ablaze
to gaze at lightning faces
to feel thunder from heaven —
only to hear “He is not here.”

What must it have been like on that early morning, millennia past,
to have run fiercely from the place where lay their doubts —
once afraid but now
emboldened
empowered
renewed
amazed
to shout the news
to proclaim the joy
to embody the living Word —
only to be doubted by the world.

What must it have been like on that early morning, millennia past,
to have spoken faithfully of that place where Christ was not —
He is alive!
He is not here!
He has conquered sin!
He has defeated death! 
to be a follower
to be a mother
to be a friend —
and to know that nothing in all creation would ever be the same again.

Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive?
Why are you looking among the world for something only Christ can give?
Why are you looking among yourself for what only Christ can be?

He is risen. He is risen indeed.