The Slow Dawning Part 2: The Gardener (Easter Day)
Outside weeping, for this makes no sense,
Dawn slowly clawing its way out of the sky,
Mary’s name dropping from the stranger’s lips,
Mary’s eyes blinking open at the sound,
While Peter, in the background, runs home, confused.
Rabbouni! The disciple’s earnest, light-bulb cry,
Arms wrapped around the one who had been lost;
The frantic fear that this, like dew, might fade away.
Yet he has arms and can be held. He lives.
(No heart could hope so wild a thing as this.)
The Consolations of Writing 