Easter Sunday (2010)

Magdalen in the Garden

I went to the tomb with the other women
our hands limp as the rags
we carried to wash away dried blood

from his eyes, ears, feet, and flesh,
to anoint his body with oils,
with prayers as final as the stone

we expected at the mouth of the cave
with no one to help us--
not even the boy who laid him out,

and blessed his body with a threadbare sheet
to cover his nakedness until we returned.
But now the boy wouldn’t accompany us

out of fear of those who have always
stood between us and our joy.
And then this man whom I mistook,

for another, until I heard his voice
and realized it was He--
who had never listened

when we called ourselves blind,
deaf, crippled, leprous, or lost,
but always saw us as whole,
and called us into abundant life.

***

From Dub Wise (Peepal Tree Press, September 2010)