When the night flees
With a piercing shriek in the throes of death
After catching the sight of sun’s thin fingernails,
She, fearless because of being in deep love,
To the graveyard.
She, a fool who believes the rumor that
Jesus will be alive again,
To the tomb where Jesus is buried.
The huge stone that only Goliath could move
Has been removed.
The tomb is empty and
Filled with scent of Jesus
With Jesus’ body nowhere in sight.
“The rumor was true!”
Her belief has been verified
Just like this.
When the fresh sun
Delivers the news of resurrection
To each tomb one by one
Like a paper boy,
The man who is walking down ahead
Showing his back to the tomb,
Is he the Lord?
“Thank you, my Lord!”
She, getting rained on
With the streaming-down sunlight and
Wiping Jesus’ five wounds joyfully
With her sizzling tears.
Whose blessing will be the empty tomb?