Resurrection

The atoms come as one, the first reality,
The spirit of the one that set the living free
Assembles back again and slowly takes its place,
The form of a young Man returning to, apace.

***

It was few hours ago that He was up above
The hill of Calvary, the price paid for His love
Of honesty and truth, of coarse humanity...
"Judge ye not today, but love thy enemy".

They hated Him so much, they nailed him down up there
"INRI", they wrote, a title without compare...
And when He passed, friends laid him in tomb of Arimathee
Wrapped up in linen cloth, to rest eternally.

***

His body burns, it's midnight... alight with holy fire
The trace of earthly things are gone; His body now, entire,
Shining with light of stars, of linen cloth breaks free...
He is Himself again, forever so to be.

Surrounded by the stars He takes His holy leave
Of all the chains of time, that are here to deceive...
With usual altruism, He looks around and knows
He's left one final sign to those His steps'd follow.

***

The tombstone moves, alone... and opens up the door
To living Earth, fresh air for Him that gave up all;
It's Sunday morn, and lo, the guards are all asleep;
He walks through them once more, that in chains would Him keep.

And here I look away, for here, soon enough
The one disciple of His that never lost her faith
Arises, walks towards Him..."Rabbuní!" she now cries;
I look away, pretending I have dust in my eyes.

The forest does surround them, the birds in heaven sing;
The Christ and Magdalene have long since gone, I think,
This is a sacred moment, the first they've really had
Alone to talk together since He rose from the dead.

***

What they do talk about remains a mystery;
That I will never know; they have their privacy;
Instead, I turn away; and soft, as if godsent,
A saint doth tap my shoulder and says "hello, my friend".

He's old and has white hair; his hands do strangely shine
With an unusual light I'll never see so fine,
His brow doth bleed a little, as if he, too, some day
Had thorns pressed into his forehead... I look at him and stay.

And gently guiding me, he takes me by the hand
"Come on, I'll show you something", he says; upon the land,
The tombstone rolls away, the tomb is open wide...
I walk, slowly, to it and carefully look inside.

***

The tomb door is open, though empty it now be...
My spirit looks inside... and what is it I see?
The tomb is still alive, with burning, divine fire
The presence of the Lord ago a little while.

I stay a while, to breathe... and then I look around
Quietly, softly so, without e'en a sound;
I bend down gently, so, as my eyes fill with tears...
A linen cloth I see, that wrapped Him that they pierced.

***

The cloth has the imprint of th'holy energy
Of Him death could not hold for days longer than three;
I shake as the tomb shines much brighter than the sun
And wake up in my bed... the cloth, the tomb are gone.

***

I look around and wonder if I did it all dream,
If He that survived death through love in this world lived,
If altruistic ones, such as that kind old man
That guided me to Him could still now be around.

And then I turn my eyes, giving a simple look
Towards my room's old desk, on which there lies a book;
A gift from an old man, who wrote some words inside:
"Whoever lives in Him, he cannot ever die".

I look and shake my head; but I open the book
The pages move; to Matthew 7:21 I look...
The bookmark falls away that was there, within...
It is a close-up picture of the Shroud of Turin.

***

The book contains His words; "oh, love as I loved Thee!";
The picture shows His wounds, for all plainly to see;
For no-one talked aloud like this Man hath; so, see,
Together with the Shroud, the book is proof for me.

I look at it again; thinking of the old man
Who gifted me it all, I thank him as I can;
Remembering him well in every one of my thoughts
For guiding me to Him who takes away my doubts.

And now, each, every day, when sun goes down with light,
In my mind's eye I see them that gave me insight;
The thorns I also wear, alike too many men...
But all I'd really want is to see my friend again.

I'd tell him all the pains that I've had to endure
The journeys I have taken, the search for Him that's pure
That's been the reason why I too now wear the thorns
That dig dip in my forehead, the pain at times like burns.

***

As for the Christ alive, the evening comes again;
He smiles and takes His parting away from Magdalene.
To Emmaus now slowly His path maketh now He...
"When in Your Kingdom, Lord, oh please remember me".