Filled with awe and great joy the women came quickly away from the tomb.
They ran to tell the disciples.
And on this Easter Monday I would be in the flowered cathedral, a delightful calming womb.
Now the churches are locked by lay scruples.
I stand alone on the path, wild forget-me-nots and dandelion the only congregation.
The hawthorn hedge the church’s aisle.
The reading not from sonorous pulpit given. I am in isolation.
But from the Universalis app I can only ponder awhile.
No lack of Mass can take this story’s wonder away.
For I read and this I know that there, coming towards the women, was Jesus.
I cannot fall down. I cannot clasp His feet but, in my heart I can Him lay.
And I too can know the joy of finding Him alive and this joy will surely seize us.
And on this country path I too am never alone.
He walks before me for my sins to atone.