My annual Easter poem. I had a different one, but a couple nights ago, I just started writing this.
It’s a messy, messy world
out there, all around me
Can I help the defensive blaming feeling
as the questions rise up in me
resonating AT me
culminate to one – age-old question from Gethsamene –
“Who is it you are looking for?”
Still, I’ll ignore that ugly sunken feeling
As I kiss him, betray him
Yell “Hosanna!” and “Crucify Him!”
But it’s a confounding, weeping feeling
that suddenly I see
– as the thief and the denier
or maybe worse, the bystander –
That, still (in spite of),
I’m promised a forgiven destiny
here and later.
And in the dawn,
it’s a clear and chilly feeling
to touch the stone
and WONDER WHERE?
I can only realize regret that the truth is…
I’m a messy messy world in me
full of fear and gravity.
Through the noise of emptiness,
“Who is it I’m looking for?”
Then Mercy at its deepest
Says my name.
And I recognize the voice
and look up.