Monday, November 1, 2010


Yes, Death, we know you're there.
We know you all too well.
You're a greedy bastard,
All taking and no giving.
You take everyone away from us,
Leaving only sorrow,
Until you take us too.

We cannot satiate you,
We cannot placate you,
What can we do?

We can laugh. (At you, not with you.)
We can throw a party in your honour,
We can decorate with darkness,
Mock you to your gaunt, hungry face.

We can teach our children
(who are still farthest
from you, yet still have
the most to lose) that yes,
we all die, and you will
take everything from us,
and so, and so, we must
celebrate, we must light
candles against the
darkness, we must laugh
at the horror of it all...

The cold wind blows down the
Mountainsides, and the clouds
Hide the chill moon.

Down here, in Death's Domain,
We laugh, we shout, we share,
We smile in a warm imitation
Of your lipless grin.

Monday, March 29, 2010


(For two female voices)

We meet in the early morning, in the darkness.
Before the sunrise has returned colour to the world.

There is no colour in our dark world.

We walk through the grey streets to the dark garden.

For two days, all has seemed grey.
Yesterday, it seemed the sun didn't rise.
We simply sat limply.

We walk through the shadows under the grey trees.
We come to the corner before the cold stone tomb.

We brace ourselves to face the stern, burly stonefaced men.

"Let us pass," We will say, "We have come to tend to our fallen king."

All that is left now is the arrangement of the dead,
like making a bouquet from dry lifeless flowers.

The Earth moves sideways under our feet and we stumble,

And ahead there is a light in the darkness.

Unsure, we walk forward ...

And we see astonishing strangeness!

There is the tomb, but all changed!
A man, all aglow, as if the sun lit him from within,
Sits smiling atop the heavy entrance stone,
And the stone, strangely, sits beside the dark empty entrance!

The soldiers sit silently slumped, their grey faces slack.

Then the sun rises.
The rays reach through the branches
And they fall through the hole in the rock

Light spills into the hole that holds our Lord.

The shining man,

The flashing angel,

Yes, he is clearly an angel,
He smiles and speaks to us.

To us!

We stand transfixed, our mouths open, our feet frozen.
"You're looking for the crucified Jesus, but he's gone!"

"He said he would rise, and he has!"

"The tomb is empty! Go look!"

We can't move but we see, through the empty hole,

We see the sun's yellow rays falling across the vacancy,

The sunlight warming the empty yellow sandstone,
The place where our Lord lay, now with only empty white linen.

"Now go!" That strange voice shocks us again,
"Go and tell his fearful followers, cowering in their dark hole,
Tell them to shake off their sadness and get to Galilee,
And he will meet them there! Now go!"

And with that, we turn, our heads spinning, and run.

We are terrified, but alive, alive and awake like never before!

The garden glows and shimmers with rich colours,
And the news fills us to bursting.

We run!

And then we stumble to a stop as if the earth had moved again.
There stands, smiling, all impossibly,
The man that minutes ago we wept for!

"Good morning, ladies!" He says.

We fall forward, each grabbing an ankle as if drowning.

"Lord, you're alive!"


"How is this possible?"

"You're everything you said you were!""

We gush embarrassingly, weeping, this time for joy, but still,

Still, we are also filled with fear.

"Relax," He smiles, touching our shoulders, "Loosen your grip; don't be upset.
Go and tell my brothers to get to Galilee and I'll meet you there."

Next thing we know, we're on our feet and running again,

Running through the glowing garden,

Grins splitting our faces, tears streaking our cheeks.

And glancing over our shoulders we see only an empty shadow-streaked path.

Onwards we rush, our skirts flapping around us, to find the followers
Hiding fearfully in the shadowy rooms.

We're running now to them with our news,

To chase away the dusty shadows,

To throw open the shutters,

To let the sun's light stream in.

Matt 28:1-10
CC-BY-SA license, attribute to "Alan Bruce"