The Sabbath had passed

Haiku of the rising

The Sabbath had passed.

The women came to the tomb

with spices of love.

The tomb was empty.

The stone had been rolled away.

Much bewilderment.

Two men appeared, bright,

shining with eternity.

The women trembled.

Why look here, among

the dead. The one whom you seek

is with the living.

These things that happened,

death giving way to rising;

a purpose divine.

They sought out the men

with their unlikely story.

They were not believed,

Resurrection’s proof

remains elusive. Made real

only by a few.

© Ken Rookes 2022

Love's duty

Haiku of the dawn

The Sabbath had passed.

They came to tend to his corpse,

to confront their pain.

The three: Salome,

the Marys, women of faith,

doing love’s duty.

As the sun rises

they bring their aching sorrow,

their baskets of spice.

Who will roll the stone?

One more barrier to face

and to overcome.

Look! The stone is gone!

Come inside the dark unknown,

discover the truth.

A youth dressed in white

greets them, Do not be alarmed!

Not much chance of that!

The tomb is empty.

What are we to make of this?

Does he really live?

Mark leaves us with doubt,

bewilderment and terror

as they flee in fear.

© Ken Rookes 2020

One for the Narrative Lectionary, responding to Mark's story of the empty tomb.

As the story goes

Haiku of unexpected life

As the story goes

Lazarus from Bethany

had been dead four days.

When Jesus arrived,

sister Martha did complain:

What kept you so long?

If you had been here!

I am the resurrection

and the life, he said.

Yes, Lord, I believe

that you are the Messiah;

God's Son, in the world.

Mary fell weeping

at Jesus' feet. Lord, she said,

If you had been here!

Had you come sooner

my brother would not have died.

Take me to his tomb.

Jesus also wept.

They removed the entrance stone

to see life triumph.

© Ken Rookes 2017

He is Risen

Rev Dr Wes Campbell - Original art work. (Use with acknowledgments please.)

While it was still dark

While it was still dark

the smallest something began.

The match flares;

its flame might catch,

or it could sputter out, unfulfilled.

In the shadows ahead of the rising sun

a woman follows a path through the trees;

hope has abandoned her.

It had been her painful duty

to watch the man die;

she knows that the darkness is thick and heavy.

Alone she comes,

with only the soft glow of love

to guide her feet to his tomb.

Hers will be a final act of devotion,

a sacred ministration to one she worshipped,

even though he cannot know it.

As she comes near to the place.

the beginnings of the dawn intrude,

to wash the garden with their dull light.

The shadows grow weak and diminish,

and the day begins to be reborn.

© Ken Rookes 2015

It is finished

A stone to seal an entrance,

asserting the boundary between the living

and the dead.

Linen cloths to bind a corpse,

cold lips hidden within coarse fabric;

no longer can they speak their words of love.

A hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes

to weigh a body down,

to keep it from floating off

into mythical certitude;

or uncertainty, if you prefer.

On Friday, with the setting of the sun,

light is overcome by the darkness

as a man is laid in his tomb.

Death's accoutrements

determinedly underline the tears,

the despair,

and the apparent finality:

it is finished.

© Ken Rookes. 2015

Lazarus

 

Unbind him,
and let him go;
release her from her bonds.
Let them be quickened,
let them be free.
Liberate them from the bands,
the baleful bands of delusion,
the cords of despair
and graveclothes of fear.
Take the stone away;
let loose the morning’s hopeful light
to chase the shadows from the cave.
Allow sweet birdsong
and the gentle sounds of spirit breeze
to find voice in the previously silent recesses;
so that we who have been dead
might hear the callings of the living,
and, glimpsing some of the possibilities of resurrection,
consider leaving our tomb.

© Ken Rookes 2014