Garden Pt. I

Blinded. Brought t'wards the light. Trembling. Move to the empty room. Peer in. Nothing's there. Nothing's here anymore. And suddenly I'm reminded - there is hope in all of this. Resurrection is real, Healing is real, even in the most dire... What it must have been like to be there that morning. What it must have been like to rise, to prepare, to walk, and to arrive at that empty tomb. To be so alarmed. To be so distraught. To run frantically searching for answers. Searching for the body. Where have you put him? You scream at the gardener. Why have you taken him away? What could you have been thinking to desecrate this, of all graves? Surely you should have known better. Surely you've heard the stories. Oh. I've heard the stories. Stories of a great man. A teacher. Born in Nazareth. Yes. Even Nazareth. I love them like I love the stories of Yahweh. God who walked amongst us. In the garden. In a garden not unlike this.