PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after Mark 16:10 and John 20:1]

Of course this week's first day is wracked with fears,

grown men like little children shedding tears.

The very worst of all our thought out sorrows

is this grim prospect:  all of our tomorrows

ahead of us and passing, without Him.

And this is not some youngster's flimsy whim

(although the youngest of us, teenaged John,

weeps, also, as if his future has gone).

Our fellowship with Jesus, these three years,

was far too precious---and now has been taken.

Must we return to lives that seemed outmoded

and see our small, but close knit, group exploded

by drift of time or social apathy?

We stayed together through His ministry

despite outside (or some internal) strife.

His Words taught us as this world cannot know.

Peter asked once, "Lord to Whom should we go?"

For Jesus has Words of Eternal Life.

I mean . . .  He had.  I am so badly shaken.

How can this dawn comfort us any more?

Night, rather, welcomes grief, and ought to tarry.

But whose are those loud knocks upon our door?

Look through the chink-hole!  Tell us quickly!  Mary?

Why ask to let her in?  What do you think?

Do fruits fall from the limb, and monkeys stink?

Starward

[jlc]