And now…we wait.
I don’t know.
For everything to suddenly make sense?
For me to wake up and find it’s all a dream?
The day after Passover is always a slow day,
But not like today.
Nervous whispers flutter around the city,
Doors are mostly shut.
The Pharisees are back to their ostentatious displays,
Observing this High Sabbath with no interruptions,
No lepers or cripples or ridiculous claims.
The Passover meals were finished by last night.
The smell of blood is still vaguely fragrant on the breeze
Blowing from the temple, the bleats of lambs,
Ringing only in my ears,
Oh, I can’t–I have no more tears to cry.
I drained them all when–
When He looked at me.
I didn’t even think about His body!
The women told us a wealthy disciple took care of it.
A half-hearted, rich disciple, and a Pharisee.
Can you believe that?
I, who would “go with Him to death,”
Run away sobbing, and a
Pharisee sees to a proper burial!
The ladies are talking of visiting the tomb.
I don’t understand their intensity.
I also ache to pay homage,
Oh, to ask forgiveness!
I don’t want to honor a corpse–
I want another chance, I want to make it right!
I am not worthy of setting a foot near His resting place.
He’s dead, and I betrayed Him.
Yet they are intent on offering Him this service,
As if…as if this whole thing didn’t
Come crashing down around us yesterday.
Mary of Bethany, of course, would do it immediately,
Something about honoring the “Lord of the Sabbath” on the Sabbath;
But we talked her out of that.
John’s been quiet, but that’s nothing new.
He keeps looking at me, probably because I’ve been quiet,
And that is something new.
His expression is pensive, curious, sorrowful,
But there’s a glimmer of something that occasionally
Runs across his face.
Sometimes he looks off to the side,
And his lips move, as if in prayer.
I think he’s rehearsing Je–our Teacher’s words.
Oh, our hearts were both saddened and filled,
Confused and joyful,
As He spoke two nights ago!
We all felt it.
And John especially ate up every word.
Peace, joy, love, He said.
He is DEAD.
How can we have peace in Him when He is dead?!
Joy in Him?
And I haven’t seen a helper.
There’s no one to comfort.
He couldn’t have lied!
It was so real!
Yet, here we are.