It is the resurrection and the life.
We talk of Jesus in his eggshell tomb,
and I make some snarky comment
about lost pagan holidays.
We talk about Jesus in an eggshell tomb,
pressing Him into the crook of two branches
remembering those lost pagan days
when the candy hunt was holy.
Pressing himself into the crook of two branches,
the Inventor hides the golden egg.
For this candy hunt is holy–
they must scale beanstalks and be giants.
The Inventor hides the golden egg,
and we scatter the rest to the four winds.
We must scale beanstalks and be giants
and think as craftily as our wisest ancestors.
(All the rest we scatter to the four winds)
Strange to be on this side of the game;
to think as craftily as my wisest ancestor;
to suddenly realize I’m in my twenty-first year.
Strange to be on this side of the game,
To witness this twentieth day, the fourth month;
To suddenly realize I’m in my twenty-first year.
When all I wanted was for magic to be real.
To witness this day and this month,
you must trace me back to a time
when all I wanted was for magic to be real;
when rabbits did lay eggs.
You must trace me back to a time
when I set magic aside.
Because rabbits never did lay eggs.
And friends never did keep promises.
When I set magic aside,
I grew down instead of up.
Friends really do keep promises:
saying something inscrutable.
I grow out instead of up.
The Inventor declaims.
Saying something in Russian,
the Healer laughs at us both.
The Inventor declaims,
and I make some snarky comment.
The Healer laughs at us both.
It is the resurrection and the life.
4/23/14
Aphra's Pen 