Evening, First Day of the Week

The Upper Room, Jerusalem, photo by Dr. LL Chan

We were waiting for it—
          big time—
the drop of the other shoe—
          Him, whirling around, standing nose
          to nose, pointing that scary finger,
          scolding, angry as hell,
          eyes like knives, slashing
          through our layered lies, ripping
          through our cloaks of cowardice.

Our eyelids hung like leaden weights
we’d borne for centuries.

The women swore they saw him,
swore he said,
          “Don’t be afraid.”

We scoffed, too tight with fear 
to hear 
          the opening door.

Before we even turned our heads,
his voice—its soft rain, 
steady, sure—
soaked through our shame:
          “Peace be to you.”

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