The first gospel to be written
is also the shortest. By far.
Especially the ending.
A bit of an embarrassment, really;
certainly for second and third century
scribes and copyists who couldn’t resist
the temptation to improve on the original.
Can’t blame them, though; verse eight
is hardly the place where we would want to leave
the bewildered Marys and Salome;
faithful women who went to anoint
the body of their Lord.
Of course they fled
in fear, terror and amazement;
who wouldn’t
after hearing the impossible news
from the equally unlikely young man
robed in improbable white?
Keep it to yourselves, ladies;
the time will come when the risen Lord will be seen,
the confusion will end,
and the others will know,
and everyone will celebrate
and shout and dance
and write their own resurrection verses.
Millions of them!
Looking ahead to Sunday!
© Ken Rookes
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