EASTER

I used to go to church.
We used to go to church,
Our whole family.
It was just something we did without a whole lot of resistance.
There was time set aside within the whole community for all of us to just sit and reflect and pray.

I was an altar boy. It was fun to put on the clothes before a service.
The flowing white surplice on top,
Gave you arms like wings.
One time my friend’s surplice caught fire during the service.
He noticed it but was unsure what to do standing in front of all the adults.
A guy from the choir jumped the rail, dragged him to the floor and smothered the fire.
It was all we could talk about for weeks.

During Easter week

At the midnight mass on Saturday
They used to roll an old church sign down the steps of the choirmaster’s loft
To symbolize the stone door of Jesus’s tomb rolling back.
It was a loud sound.

It made a point, waking us all up.

Heart rates accelerated, feeling the surge of life.
“He is risen” they’d say
Then send us all home to bed wondering
Just how we were supposed to sleep after that.