No one saw Him rise . . .
Not soldiers at the tomb —
They'd heard his death-cry, cut him down
And slept secure — the stone could not be moved.
Not women coming to anoint —
The burial had been hasty, incomplete,
So they brought nard and spices,
To touch Him one last time with love.
Not Mary, His Mother —
That night was black with grief and emptiness;
But she waited for the sun to rise
Assured that her life in Him could never die —
Would somehow quicken, be made new.
Not Peter, James and John -
Their hopes and dreams lay buried
Sealed by rocks of faithlessness and fear.
They dared not remember
He had promised to return...
No one saw Him rise...
Except His Father-God
Who stretched out His creative Hand
To shatter tomb and death and darkness,
Calling forth the new Adam, His Resurrected Son,
To proclaim the new creation, a second Eden,
Bathed in light of that Easter dawn.
Joseph J. Gallo
EASTER — 1992
