Poem of the Week

Behind that stone before

it was rolled away

a corpse lay.

There lay all I deplore:

fear, truculence - much more

that to any other I need not say.

But behind that stone I must be sure

of deadness, to allay

self-doubt i.e. so nearly to ignore

the love and sacrifice for our

release; to nearly stray

back into the old

pursuit of virtue.

Once it is clear

it was a corpse that day,

then, then, we know the glory

of the clean place, the floor

of rock, those linens, know the hour

of His inexplicable "Peace;" the pour

-- after He went away --

of wonder, readiness, simplicity,

given.