Morning

    Early morning –

All the world sleeping

Except one woman –

Noiselessly she slips through the garden,

Thinking only of one thing.

Birds’ wings flutter

Softly, close to her;

But she does not hear them.

She rushes forward

And the tomb where they laid him is empty.

She kneels, weeping;

Her mind rushes back

Three days ago

When God died.

He hung long on the cross,

His body beaten, broken, bleeding,

His spirit heavy with the guilt of the world;

And he asked why God his father left him

And no one knew what to say

So they said nothing.

But his enemies mocked him and

Told him to come down

If he was really God.

He did not come down.

He died there;

And everything was over.

The sky went dark

Though it was still midday,

And the moon was bloody when it rose.

And they took down the body

And sealed God in the ground

Forever.

Now the tomb is open –

She breathes quickly, wondering:

Maybe forever is not forever?

But no…

She saw him dead.

She cleaned his body.

God is dead.

Someone behind her –

She turns quickly.

It is only the gardener.

She sighs, shoulders slump in disappointment,

Asking where they have put him,

Where they have moved the dead body of God.

He says her name:

“Mary!”

And she knows that God is not dead –

It was for her he died;

It is for her he lives again –

For her, and for the whole world.

And it changes everything forever

Because by his blood we are spotless in his eyes.

And because he died and rose again

We too shall rise!

If we believe that he died for us,

That God died and yet lives.