Three Marys
We decided to go to the garden
even though a giant stone blocked our way,
with spices to perfume our memories,
with tears to anoint him, with prayers to pray.
But at his tomb, we were greatly alarmed
for the stone had been rolled back from the cave,
and a strange young man was there, dressed in white,
saying, “Fear not! He is not in this grave!
He is risen! He is alive! Now go,
tell his disciples that He goes before
you to Galilee, and you will see Him
resurrected, alive forevermore!”
Trembling and astonished, we fled in fear,
but with hope and joy that Jesus was near.
The Angel
I will declare to you the dreams of God,
the invitations of the Almighty,
with lilies in my hands, fire in my wings,
with the Word that was and is and will be!
When the earth quakes, I will come down to you,
my face like lightning, my clothes white as snow,
and fear of me will fall on Roman guards,
who, like dead men, can neither hear nor know.
But you will hear my voice proclaim the truth:
“I know you seek Jesus, him Crucified,
but he is not here, for He is risen!
The Lord is no longer dead, but alive!”
Behold, the revelation from on high!
Do not be afraid, for Jesus is nigh.
The Gardener
I saw you, Beloved, standing quiet
at the foot of my cross waiting for me
to speak to your heart as you were longing
to hear my Word to you beside that tree.
I spoke seven times, but to you, nothing,
a deep silence almost too much to bear,
but, Beloved, I was waiting for this:
to meet you in the garden of your ear.
Mens tua hortus meum est, yes, your
mind is my garden, your voice is lovely!
I have heard the voice of your weeping here,
and I call you by name, by own Mary.
I love you, Beloved, I love your name;
for the love of you, my dear one, I came.
Jane Beal
Made in the Image (2009)
THE POETRY PLACE 