April 2003  

Emily Just before Easter   © by   Celisa Steele
 

No more a regular at any church,
she comes uncertainly here to this place
to stare up at Christ on his wooden perch,
his pierced hands, the tired angles of his face.

In the cool quiet of the empty nave,
she tries to imagine the stone rolled back—
the empty tomb, Christ risen from the grave—
tries to accept this scene unseen as fact.

She has always understood Thomas best:
to see with his eyes, to touch with his hands,
to build his faith on more than shifting sands.
As she stands, crosses herself, and walks out,
she takes Thomas's as her own request
and prays for even enough faith to doubt.

Previously published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
Award-Winning Poems 2002. Used with the poet's permission.
NOTICE: The poem on this page is copyright © by the poet.