Pastor: He has Risen.
Congregation: He Has Risen, indeed.
I know that, and every line of the Easter service,
-Can tell you every parable, quote you all the verse,
sing you all the lines from the hymns.
I spent Easter Sundays as a child trying to count the lilies on the altar,
but always lost count somewhere after a hundred.
This is a Sunday that celebrates miracles.
Which I don’t believe in anymore.
Except when the last thing I want to do is host -
or bake a ham.
In fact bake at all,
since every thing about a lemon meringue pie makes me sad.
But I do those things anyway,
And then my house if full-
of family by birth or by circumstance.
Full of children’s laughter and hopped-up on chocolate smiles
And that’s when I catch the miracle-
between the buds of the hyacinths of the centerpiece.
The little one.
About how there is room in my heart for love,
She has risen.
She has risen, indeed.