Like her friend, she would curse the barren tree and glory in the lilies of the field.She lived between noons and midnights: in those moments of high dance when blood is wisdom and flesh love.
But now, before the violated cave, on the third day of her tears, she is a dark pool of grief spent upon the earth. Someone has taken her dead Jesus, unoiled and unkissed, to where flies and worms more quickly work.
She suffers wounds that will not heal, and enters into the pain of God, where lives a gardener who once exalted in her perfume, knew the extravagance of her hair, and now asks her who she seeks.
In Peters dreams, the cock still crowed.
He returned to Galilee to throw nets into the sea and watch them sink like memories into darkness. He did not curse the sun that rolled down his back, or the wind that drove the fish beyond his nets. He only waited for the morning when the shore mist would lift and from his boat he would see Him. Then, after naked and impetuous swim with the sea running from his eyes, he would find a cook, with holes in his hands, stooped over dawn coals, who would offer him the Kingdom of God for breakfast.
On the road that escapes Jerusalem, and winds along the ridge to Emmaus,
Two disillusioned youths dragged home their crucified dream.
They had smelled Messiah in the air and rose to that scarred and ancient hope only to mourn what might have been.And now, a sudden stranger falls upon their loss, with excited words about mustard seeds, and surprises hidden at the heart of death, and that evil must be kissed upon the lips, and that every scream is redeemed for it echoes in the ear of God, and do you not understand what died upon the cross was fear!
They protested their right to despair, but he said, "My fathers laughter fills the silence of the tomb.!"
Because they did not understand, they offered Him food. And in the breaking of the bread they knew the imposter for who He was - the Arsonist of the Heart.
After the end, comes the conspiracy
Of gardeners, cooks and strangers.