Easter
is my season
of defeat.
Though all
is green
and death
is done,
I feel alone.
As if the stone
rolled off
from the head
of the tomb
is lodged
in the doorframe
of my room,
and everyone
I’ve ever loved
lives happily
just past
my able reach.
And each time
Jesus rises
I’m reminded
of this marble
fact:
they are not
coming back.
Source: Poetry (January 2011)