Poem for Easter Sunday.
by Virginia M. Kimball, S.T.D. | Source:

Why do you seek the living one among the dead?” Luke 24:5

He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said.
Come, and see the place where he lay. Matthew 28:7

Rejoice, Mary! … “found” expecting joy!
Words resounding in your heart,
sorrows replaying in your mind,
weakness bewails your very being.

Rejoice, how can it be? How can it be
that he is dead, brutally
pierced by Roman soldiers
he was gone
by seeing
blood and water gush
from his side.
They knew
his life was through.

You ponder Mary:
“How can I
have my son return,
for I have not known
death to be so kind?
How can
I rush to be with him
when he must be
about his
Father’s business?”

“My friend
apostle Mary
walks and talks
with him
in the garden.
But I, the mother
abide at home,
with kind John,
that anything
is possible
with God.”

Especially now Mary’s heart sings,
only now her joy in glory rings …

“Christ, my son, has risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
bestowing life to those
abiding in the tombs. Alleluia!” Taken from the ancient Resurrection Hymn

Sorrows harbored in her heart,

rejoicing “known” from the start!


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