April 5: Easter Morning
It’s about not meeting what you dread,
no matter how prepared to square it.
Things are in glorious disarray instead.
About needing an earthquake, a black noon,
and lightning in an empty tomb
to get it through your head.
About hearts burning as truth is re-told,
and a name is spoken just so.
Recognition after others have fled.
Flesh, with wounds that stubbornly cling
A voice, a visage, a visitation, a vanishing
The stealth surprise of a breakfast spread.