The Magnificat of Mary
He has ousted the privileged power players
and elevated those with little to lose.
Now he feeds those in former days kept hungry
while those who benefited from privilege wait their turn.
Luke 4:51-53 (paraphrased)
Palm Sunday,
a city filled with qualms,
no crowds in streets.
no one waving palms,
sirens’ wailing songs.
Refrigerated tombs,
sad upper rooms.
Easter – a calendar week away
seven same old same old days,
a week of Fridays, none of them good.
Still it is good to know, in spite
of Buddha’s promised nirvana,
Mohammad’s promised paradise,
and Jesus’ promised heaven
many gone long to come back for
another chance to live a human life.
Rebirth,
not in some unearthly elsewhere but on earth.
O sunrise happy day!
Live-streamed lilies with no smell,
a demoralized tintinnabulating bell,
an AI holographic choir mouthing
in absentia a requiem for alleluia
as virtual and virtuous tourists,
gather at the garden sepulcher,
uncertain anyone is coming,
at least not back.
In the funereal gorge of limestone tombs
three grieving women carrying perfumes
came to prepare a body likely to stay dead.
Where do we go now to meet life
looming large beyond dead ends?
Where do we look for a rising savior,
Where do we look for a rising savior,
Where do we look for a rising savior,
early in the morning?
Do we dare
look in the mirror for a rising savior,
keep an inner eye on our behavior
have the strength to never waiver,
early in the morning?.
We long for Easter insurrection,
a resurrection of the body politic
when unjust structures are replaced by
structures that serve the least served living,
not the self-embalmed, ego-isolated dead.