Mary Magdalene rises from grief and sorrow to greet the risen Saviour at the dawn of a new life.
Apostle to the Apostles.
The morning’s mist, through which I pick my way,
clings to each shape and shadows grief’s alarm.
My deadened heart, I stumble, hopeless, lost.
Two days like centuries have dragged the time,
and now, moved from my empty deadly home,
I grieve my way to stand and face the truth.
My love not strong enough to keep Him safe
my hope not real enough to turn back time.
And so I’ll stand and weep or lie and die
for what’s my life? An empty hollowed heart
in which his memory will echo loud
and fill its caverned waste with dark.
And worse to come, my ravaged love is lost.
No sight, no pity for my breaking life.
Some gentle kindness from the gardener’s gaze
and yet no future beckons, all is gone.
And then my Name so softly said it hurts,
my heart can hardly hold the hope.
And every flower aflame, each leaf alight.
And with His rising, I am now alive.
Fr Mark Skelton is a priest of the Plymouth Diocese, a poet and has always had a keen interest in the interface between Literature and Theology.
