26.
I suppose it was when that woman anointed Him that things started to turn. We all saw the look on Judas’ face at the expense, though none of us expected where he would take it. Even as He started to tell us plainly what would happen next we hardly believed it, least of all Peter, always ready with his sword and his bravado. I couldn’t say that I expected it any more than he did, though. The only difference between us was that I was never so sure that I would stay loyal to the end like he was. While everyone else murmured, “Surely Lord not I?”, I was briefly back at my money tables, seeing His eyes and His finger, pointing at me. Surely, Lord, not I? How could it be me, in spite of everything? Even now?
27.
What they did to Him, I only know from those who stayed: the faithful handful of women, John, and those who would later join our number from the wonders they saw. Even while they killed Him, He was gathering people to Himself, proving faithful, proving generous, arms outstretched in love. Even the dead, they say, rose from their graves to proclaim what the living had failed to see – what even I failed to see until He stood before me again, scars in His hands, forgiveness on His lips, every promise fulfilled.
28.
This was how it ended, and this is how it begins: all our broken human expectations shattered, all the limits and disappointments of death broken open. We were faithless. We remain fickle. Even the women told us they feared when they saw the angel, and we all doubted even as He stood before us. But we know what we saw, and we know the promise He breathed into us. He returned to us. He will return. Everything is changed, though the sun rises and sets as it has always done. Even when we doubt and forget, everything is changed.
The Consolations of Writing 
Hello, Matthew. I enjoyed your poem “Stanzas for Edith Stein” on Amethyst Review, went looking for more from you and found this. A wonderful project! Perhaps you feel a special connection with Matthew through your name. I’ll look back through earlier posts to learn more.
In your poem, every line is so exquisite, but I especially love “Not even knowing yourself, you asked / How could one self ever know another?” I feel like that all the time these days. I’m always so grateful to poetry for putting things I couldn’t express into words.
I’m a blogger and a writer too. I try to reach out to other writers when possible because it’s so nice to feel someone has read and appreciated your work.
Thanks again and happy writing!
Thanks so much Lory! I’m so glad that you enjoyed my poem at Amethyst Review. I’m planning for that to be the start of a new collection of poems themed around mystic figures of the past like Edith Stein.
Thanks for reaching out! It’s always great to hear from other writers and bloggers, and I’m really happy to hear that you’ve enjoyed discovering my work.
That sounds like a wonderful project. I’ll look forward to seeing that develop.