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How do we feel it anew when the elements are the same every year? The angry mob, the beatings, the Cross, the Resurrection. I don’t want my brain to just understand the progression of events, I want my heart to feel it. Somehow, writing creatively and poetically gets my heart more involved – it feels vulnerable and messy and grappling, but cuts through the noise to the marrow. Whether you’re inclined to like poetry or not, I hope something within these verses touches your heart.
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The Poetry of Easter – Audio
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FULLY HUMAN
How did He come? He didn’t burst onto the scene in golden light,
dressed in celestial white –
He came in the flesh, bloodied and bawling
From His mother’s inner cradle into chilly night air
What is more human than blood, birth, and pain?
Fully human – but without a single stain.
Did He get splinters? Toothaches? Stubbed toes?
Did He “grow like a weed”?
Sneeze in threes and have achy knees?
And, how did He leave?
He died human too: body torn
(bone from bone and then the soul);
His life-blood pooled beneath Him hanging –
ebbing from Him and flowing to us.
Taking life, giving Life.
Did He know? How much and when? (That He was God incarnate and would die for men.)
BLOOD-THIRSTY
The same people who had roared with praise
turned around again and cried out in rage
(if their hearts grow cold, is the blood also chilled?
Or does it race hotter through veins burning with
destruction, corruption, and self-promotion?)
“We love you, we hate you.”
His heart beats for them (and us) the same.
We, His created, called for this blood. (Treachery!)
Dry throated, thirsty for it. The ground cracked dry waiting for red rain –
all the Earth calling in a twisted, strangled scream for the death of Perfection.
DOUBTING & DEATH
None of His words could be true, His miracles too?
Death is taking Him – pulling Him to the grave (He, not even resisting the depraved!)
It was a sham, a hoax, a game, but I saw Him heal the lame…?
And, why is the air electric with things unseen? Will God somehow intervene?
Brittle bones breaking
Sockets popping
Lungs sucking deep
Rattling, rasping final breaths….
Gathering air to out loud bless
The weight of the world:
In a vast palm the blue marble easily spins
but how could a man shoulder all sin?
(Is the world in God’s Hand, as they say, or was it all on Christ’s shoulders that day?)
EMPTY GRAVE
The grave stands deserted now,
yawning emptiness
& hope to the full
He didn’t cheat death, sneaking by
By the skin of His teeth
He didn’t reconsider,
change His mind,
throw in the towel on humankind,
He died all the way, to the extent of the law
that governs us – the dusty, mortal, flawed
And then He came back alive,
killing Death and robbing its prey:
What does this mean for us today?
It means decay can be reversed
(Even in your festering heart),
It means every time you slip into the darkness,
there is a real, living hand extended
It means the creatures formed from earth
won’t always hobble and huddle close to the ground,
dirty hands, feet, faces
It means we – shabby and magnificent and numbered-of-days –
can live free and forever
in the Presence of the One who loves us
Loves us to death
& back again
It means the end is the beginning.
We’d love to have you join us for Good Friday and Easter services! Learn more at https://www.kensingtonchurch.org/easter