After Matthew 26:26-35
What did it look like,
this empty place, designed
as an end but instead
became a beginning?
What did it look like,
these walls of stone
carved from the hill?
Was the stone cold, or warm,
was it dusty with flakes
of rock, stony remains?
Was it cold with death’s
dampness? Did it smell,
this place created as
a final repose?
Were the strips of cloth
scattered or gathered
neatly, was a shroud
left behind, stained
with the likeness
of its wearer?
Did the glow of change
remain, could the shadow
of eyes opening, heart
beating, first movements
of arms and legs be felt,
be sensed or contained
as a memory?
What was it like
to see the place
and stumble like
a drunkard,
the reality of emptiness
crushing the shock
of a body disappeared?
What was it like
to see nothing and
see everything?
Photograph by Simon Wood via Unsplash. Used with permission.
