It was in the silence,
the quiet scorn before punishment
that I first heard your voice.
Calm and collected,
you turned their anger to insight,
and beseeched them to look within
before judging another.

It was in the silence,
with your blood stained hair
covering your bruised and beaten face
that you spoke.
You did not condemn,
but only cried out for the father
and asked for my forgiveness.

It was in the silence
my heart stirred within me
dissipating the shock of unbelief
that you were really gone.
In that moment,
the sky grew dark,
the ground shook,
the earth mourned your absence.

It was in the silence,
my ears now deaf to the moans,
we numbly went about our duties,
finally saying goodbye
as the stone rolled into place.
Not knowing hat to do,
trying desperately not to return
to the sin you found us consumed by,
we stumbled away
questioning this shocking turn of events.

It was in the silence
I made my way to where you rested,
my eyes all blurry,
only to find you gone.
Panicking I searched the walls,
egging them to tell me where you were.
My heart leapt as you spoke my name
in the silence,
and I could not wait to tell the others.

Background

In 2004, I was part of APC’s Writer’s Group: More Than Words. We did an Easter themed book, handed out to our church group. I found this recently, and thought I would put it here.

Published under Heather Fitzpatrick