What is resurrection?
A grand passion play
or ancient sacrifice of innocence betrayed,
before rising from cold, cracked stone.
A manger foretold the tomb
where swaddling clothes smelling of burial herbs
were unable to hold back bright light of shining star
that went dark on a hill of crosses,
but not dark enough
to hide the hint of what is to come.
What is to come?
A marching band of resurrection saints,
of waving flags and golden banners
and hallelujahs exploding throughout the universe?
No marching band,
but a flute in the woods
like a whisper in leaves;
no proud trumpet and thunder of drums,
but the gardener calling one’s name
or breaking bread on Emmaus road.
or appearing in our midst without announcement
taking form in the formless
here then gone.
No crescendo of chorus
or stadium applause;
only the sound of light
like a drop of sweat on the tongue from Golgotha.
Michael Braswell is a former prison psychologist and professor.
He has published books on ethics, human relations as well as several short story collections.