Burst, Pierced, Broken, Opened.

And in sympathy, the centurion
took his spear and pierced his side;
burst, pierced, broken, opened
that man’s heart
to make sure of death
the agony of dehydration
having gone on too long.

Burst, pierced, broken, opened
so we should know
that turned outside in
lies all creation’s transformation.

Burst, pierced, broken opened
the spear of truth
penetrating the pith of being
revealing that all-redeeming love

Burst, pierced, broken, opened
the thrust that brings
continual conversion to living in Love.
 
Anne Hine RSCJ

Third Day Dawn

As the first silver line of dawn
lit the morning sky
    arms loaded with burial cloths
    hands filled with myrrh
    eyes with tears and hearts
    with the heaviness of grief.
they hurried
    worried
about how they’d move the stone.

They stopped, aghast
at the empty place, where last
his body lay. It was not there.
Shock numbed the senses, time stood still.

Who? Where? What?
Then saw the borrowed grave cloths
still wrapped on the floor
and light lit the scene.
He was not here then where?

Three days, too late He’d risen as He’d  said.
And Magdalen – it would be her –
Said she had seen him, he’d called her by name
and said, they, the women,
were to tell the men and everyone
    this good news
    this good news
He’d risen from the dead just as He’d said.
 
Anne Hine RSCJ