His offering made us see what could be doneWith flesh and blood. First, we had eaten fromHis gestures—wine and bread—and what we’d beenWas gone. We knew that we belonged to him.Then, waiting with our grief beside the tomb,We were made humble, and our faces wet.We wanted his return; we wanted him,The way he made our truth immediate.But he was gone, and what would happen now?We felt the loss that he’d inherited,The loss we’d given him, that pierced him through.There, we were bound by all that wasn’t said.And, finally, realizing what was known,We closed our eyes, and saw him rise through stone.
At first, I saw their faces, close together,And in their distance they were like the weather,The satisfaction found in abstract thought,The feeling of the sunlight when it’s caught.Then they moved closer, barefoot on the ladder,And less transparent as they moved toward matter.And so it was that they became more human,Their otherness unfolded to illumineHow I could be. Inside my human body,I tried to understand, but was not ready.I slept. I watched the swaying of the rungs,Heard whispering of nighttime on their tongues—Then nothing but the planets in their voices.The space they left was filled with human choices.