Amidst the rejoicing, remember this . . .

This Easter has been a bit busy with family, so I am re-posting something apropos that I wrote a while back. He is Risen. Let’s not re-bury him, this year.

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The lilies of the field, how handsomely clothed! Yet, they toil not.

Should you do more?

A sparrow falls to the ground! I see it’s limp, lifeless form.

Why, then, do you cry?

A woman’s essence drains and drips. I plug the hole.

And yet, you scorn whom I heal?

I call into the caucusing storm: Feed my people!

And you respond: Let us go!

A withered hand reaches, trembling. I re-form its broken shape.

You decry the miracle in your eyes.

Two fear-full, fear-filled men threaten safe passage. I cast the demons out. You send me away.

Thousands gather in hope and hunger. From a loaf and few fishes, all are fed. And still, you doubt.

I call into the caucusing storm: Feed my people!

And you respond: Let us go!

Outcast beggars stumble in sightless dark. I bring light to the world.

You close your eyes to vision.

Caverns of silent stone hold captive  tongues. I make them  hear and speak. You turn away.

Unfruited fig tree withers in shame. I curse it in your stead.

You can, too, but fail to understand.

I call into the caucusing storm: Feed my people!

And you respond: Let us go!

A grieving widow’s tears land softly on the bier. I call her son to rise.

You feel no fear.

A desolate father pleads for his daughter. I bade her waken, open eyes.

You recoil in gleeful laughter.

The priest shrieks in pain. From dripping blade, I return his ear. Enough, I say! Listen, hear my words.

I have called over time into the caucusing storm: Feed my people!

And still you respond: Let us go!

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