Climb, Mary.
Walk on faith shards
and broken hopes
to the tomb.
Carry your jar of myrrh
Wrapped in tears and tatters
to the garden.

This last thing you can do.
and who will move the stone?

Blot out cross.
Forget thorns.
Forget whips, laughter, scorn.
Blood, dust and darkness.

This last thing I can do.

And who will move the stone
From my heart
My life?

Ground shakes.
Rocks shatter, seals are blasted.
Morning
Like banners in the sky.
Blazing light.
Drop your spices. Mary!
Run, come, see!
He is not here.
He is risen!

[Written by one of my counseling clients].