Preaching Resurrection

Plastic Lilies in bunches,
Held together by hand tied hanger wire
and gathered from boxes
stored and dusted off for celebration.

Tulips and Daffodils freshly cut
pose alongside in vases filled with sink water.
The authentic and the artificial in mixture and on display.

Visitors make their twice annual journey into Sunday clothes
While the faithful in dialogue
greet with "Christ is risen, He is Risen indeed!"
Hugs and twice-kissed cheeks.
Smudged red lipsticks on Styrofoam cups.
Bits of chocolate and marshmallow linger in teeth.
Boys and girls wearing ties and dresses and jumping.
Jumping with Sugar digesting.

Timpani and brass in fanfare.
Trumpeters rented for the morning.
The choir prepares to pay Handel tribute.
Hallelujah's resound from
breaths smelling of morning coffee and hurried mint.
Grey hairs with tears and eyes
blue and green and brown
These view memories like silent-movies.
They stare through the singing
And touch the absence of loved ones long gone.

All await a word and some from God.

The pulpit wood is shroud-draped.
Since choral participation is too numerous
for normal seating arrangements,
The usual and undecorated man
sits to the side in a seat reserved to preach.

He has a fever this morning.
His throat burns
with red and white sores
that punish each swallow.
Pockets filled with tissues he tries to
stem the tide of congestion.
Joints in his knees
on fire
The preacher's heart.
He fights silent in coat and tie.
His thoughts sleepwalk with prayers
and blowing nose.
"Help me" he whispers.
Sporadic tremors
intrude and chill his muscles and bones.

The moment arrives.
He is summoned.
He sudden remembers the Lapel mic.
In stride to his appointment
he releases the Mute.
The preacher is on.

All eyes meet in a silent conversation
and then close in community.
The prayer is asked,
the Book is opened.
The congregation sits anxious—
some for lunch, some for grace.

The preacher infirmed stands
and resurrection is proclaimed.

-Zack