The Gardener

A choir of angels danced in the heavens The sun was shining with breaking news The Son was rising Shaking heaven and earth a rock it did roll The veil was lifted the curtain torn the barrier razed Everything changed that morn for nothing remained the same Fame was not his game the lame could walk Tax collectors and prostitutes were his dinner guests Like buried seeds awaiting winter’s end with a word the dead spring to life But flowing robes with a dark heart and false lips their refuge was a lie…deception their hiding place* wanting their author nailed to a cross then out of sight His grave was a tomb the door a boulder sealed tight Guarded like a prisoner though he was chained to death His escape was prophesied whispered through the streets In the morning there came a deafening silence The soldiers nowhere in sight ran with fright the stone to guard the dead was rolled away Some ran to see the empty tomb but left dismayed Angels dressed in human attire arrive to give the breaking news still Mary wept at the sight She saw the gardener or so she thought Fought back tears for the tomb was vacant The gardener must know maybe he knew She wiped away her tears with the hem of his cloak to see more clearly He was not the gardener Frank Black Blacharczyk from John 20:1-18 (Isaiah 28:15 NIV)*