two poems on the resurrection

And the Word became flesh, and did tabernacle among us. -John 1:14

Love

For three days,

the word lay like

a stilled tongue 

inside the mouth

of a lightless 

tomb--

blood-soaked,

eyes rolled back

like a stone,

like the word

stone, lifeless

until breath

and breather’s 

meaning

filled the law

of love and death’s

clanging symbols

with risen flesh.

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Joy

An angel folds

death’s shroud

in joy and trembling,

as He unfolds

the three-person tent,

 raising it up

like a big top, 

to be seen by all

that we might come, 

Allegria Allelulia,

to make our dwelling

inside of Him.