That broken morning it was clear
all that talk about mercy went nowhere,
and God had lost out to the power of evil.
Crushed by how badly love had failed,
afraid for whatever came next, we went to the grave
to anoint him with oils and ourselves with tears.
But he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there.
Instead, an angel, who cocked her head at us.
“Why y’all weeping? Failure? Fear?
Hm. No such thing,” she said,
solemnly swinging incense around us
and our pitiful little handful of love,
as if over the holiest thing.
“Some things just don’t die.”
With the smile of a comforting mother
whose kid thinks she’s hurt worse than she is,
she said, “Honey child, you have no idea,”
and walked off, all casual, grinning, swinging incense
and swinging her hips like she knew something,
singing a little tune.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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