The small resurrection

A meditation on Easter vigil:

I am sure she just wanted to stay there
With her back against the cold stone
Fingers pressed into the earth
The grounding realness of them the only things keeping her mind from flying away, long away
The smooth stone soothing her, keeping her from clawing her eyes out for what they had seen and found no way to stop

I am sure the others had to cajole her
Mary, it’s not safe to stay the night here
They know who we are and
Even if they didn’t, we are women and you know what that means
But she didn’t have any fear left, because the worst thing that could ever happen to her already had

I am sure she would have sat there all night in the dark
For she had nowhere else to go
Nowhere she’d rather be
Purity codes be damned
Feasting be damned to hell
This was where her heart was and so
This was her address

I am sure they had to sit in the dirt with her
With their backs against the cool stone
Arms aching from the work done
Hearts sore with the promise of grief still coming

I am sure they wept
And held
And raged
And sat silent until one heaved a sigh and pushed herself to her feet
Dusted her hands
Followed by the second, who
reached down to her sister
And waited
And waited

Until she rose and walked home in the dark.

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