He was pushed.
Ruffled.
Manhandled.
‘What happened to those hands?
Weren’t they same that raised Lazarus and others?
Didn’t those hands calm the storm?
Why are they so stiff?
Why are they weak before the mob?’
Confused beyond words
We kept watching
We held our breath as Pilate lifted the gavel
Death by crucifixion was the verdict
We all watched from afar
He was mocked
Flogged.
Killed.
“What happened to those feet?
They have gone dead and cold
Who could have told they would end this way?”
Heads bent in dejection
Shoulders flattened in defeat
We stole away from the scene
The sun has suddenly hidden his face
Darkness has suddenly engulfed us
Jerusalem has been bereaved of life
She’d been stripped off her dignity
Sleep’s been scarce since Friday
It’s still very early this morning
Voices were heard afar
Whether it’s for joy or sorrow
We could not tell
They kept coming closer
The knock was getting louder
The push on the door was harder
The door knob turning faster
Surely they were coming for us
“But who are they?
What on earth do they want?
Haven’t they killed our Lord?
Do they want us too?”
Eyes weakened by inconsolable tears
Faces paled by fear and agony
We were expecting the worse
But what can be worse than the gruesome murder of our Hope?
So we gazed as Peter got the door
Mary and her friends barged in
“He’s risen! Our Lord is risen
The grave is empty
Death is swallowed in victory”
With heads now raised in awe
Shoulders now squared up in pride
And hearts filled with praise
We celebrate our risen Lord
Who has triumphed over sin and death!
(Amara Ifeakor-Ezenwa, copyright 2023)
AMARA HOPE 