The Fragrance of This Dawn

What do you smell?
What fragrance kisses your nose this dawn?

Grief offers nights with no end, no sleep.
The memory of this early walk is no more.
Has exhaustion given way to sleep?
Are you now sleeping?
Surely, this is a dream.

The weight of your spices is forgotten.
Their aroma made impotent.
Prepared for the stench,
Reason cannot grasp this.
What do you smell?
What fragrance kisses your nose this dawn?

You stand alone at the entrance.
His body is no longer here.
You question your sight.
No cold corpse to touch.
Surely, this is a vision.

With your pulse racing,
you question yourself.
Your eagerness to serve leaves you
not knowing what to do?
What do you smell?
What fragrance kisses your nose this dawn?

You are indeed awake.
Early you came to prepare his body,
his lifeless body,
the body that is not here.
Where is the stench of death?

The other women arrive
before you gather yourself.
Stunned, they too share in this reality.
You hear each gasp.
What do you smell?
What fragrance kisses your nose this dawn?

Tell us Maryam,
What is the fragrance of  resurrection?

Seeing You

Seeing your body
struggling to breathe,
yielding to pain,
as your senses are assaulted.
You are robed in agony.

Seeing you hunted for so long.
Who can count the lies, traps and distortions?
Had they nothing to do of worth?
They sought to tear you
from those who love you,
from those you love.

Seeing you there it seems so far away.
Only my grief can bridge the distance
from there where you hang
to here where we sob.
I know of blood spilled
by stones, by sword, by cross.
No, it never makes sense.

Seeing your tears, sweat and blood
trickle down your flesh
mingling with dirt and dust,
yet not being able to comfort you is a curse.

Seeing you there in your broken humanity.
Your nakedness I do not see
though surely it is before me.
What is nakedness
at a time such is this?
I have been blinded by your agony.
My senses are useless.

I am not to look upon one who is unclothed,
but not to see you in this moment
allows me to try to deny this reality.
What solace is there in denying what is?

Gazing upon you is the only way
to share in your agony,
in the humility and sorrow
of your final hours...your final moments.
You are not alone, my child.