he is not here

he is good, just as he said

an eastertide poem that needed some time to sit before she was ready to emerge from the garden. gratitude to the ragamuffin faithful who have given Jesus back to me. i hope—god, i hope!—you know who you are.

****

woman, why do you weep? 
sitting in your pew with friday’s storm 
on your sunday face. 

i weep, for they have taken my lord away—
the one whom my soul dearly loved.
they have taken away embodied Love 
and left to me the grave clothes:
callousness, and cruelty, 
and everything unlike compassion. 
these dead things remain, and of course
i weep, for they have taken my lord away—
and, god, i loved him so! 

woman, woman—do not fear. 
we are the ragamuffin faithful, 
we are the outcasts, the unchurched,
the oppressed, the lost sheep, 
we are all who stand with them, 
and to you we say this:
why do you seek the living among the 
wolves? he is not here, 
he is alive—
he is not cruel, 
he is Love,
just as he said.