Here is another old poem of mine for Easter. Enjoy–and don’t forget to read the story I posted on Thursday, about what would happen to the Inklings if the Germans won WWII.
Grief: Mary Magdalene’s Testimony I
I, too, saw that absent shape. I stood
a while and watched a shadowed fear grow
in my companions’ eyes. One knelt and wept.
I thought I felt the vacancy that showed
on their faces, but scarcely had my heart
begun to empty of its faith when He
called me. I left my friends and knelt alone.
His hand rested on my hair; I breathed
the daily scent He wore of dusty walks,
sun-baked work, and hibiscus air. I saw
His wounded hands, His thorn-bruised head,
and His spear-torn side in my thoughts,
then raised my eyes and knew Him in the dawn.
My tears dampened His knee. This is not death!