Easter Tuesday
Arrives and we ask
Why is the sound of joy
Already so dim in our ears
Listen
It is a day of question
Why is resurrection promise
Slipping through our fingers
Becoming a strange sound, a
Whisper.
What seemed so real on Sunday
Has returned to the realm of rumor
Listen still, a whisper, a rumor of
Hope.
Today we begin to remember
That the promised joy in not cheap
And sometimes illusive
Slipping through our neural spaces something
Strange
Today it dawns
The Man of Sorrows must lead
Us to the light
With his wounded hands of
Love.
There is a rumor of resurrection
And not all rumors are fake news
Some rumors echo truth
Such is the rumor of
Joy.
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