Tag Archives: Easter

#286: When Easter Falls on April Fools Day

Jesus-with-a-basketball

The first poem
of the month
has a provocative
title, and suggests,
provocatively,
that Jesus was
joking. He made
us think he was
dead and then
rose again on
the third day,
the first day
of April, to
shoot hoops
with his friends.
Most everyone was
totally fished in.
You would be.
But of course,
the day we
celebrate Easter,
if we celebrate
Easter, is arbitrary
and changes every
year depending on
some mysterious
force in the calendar
universe, which,
in and of itself,
is a kind of April Fools
joke. Jesus was not
born on December
the twenty-fifth
and he did not rise
from the grave on
April the first.
No one really knows
when he was born
or when he rose
from the grave–
and for this and
for a bunch of other
stuff, he has been
laughing at us
for a very long time now.

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#269: A Letter of Gratitude to My Wife and Son (another prose poem)


Dear family,

I am about to begin my journey home. Almost everything is put away and the trailer is hitched up (I never did unhitch); all I have to do now is climb in and start up the engine. It was a good trip. Even though I was with my brother and his friends, I spent a lot of time by myself. I read some and I wrote some and I listened to music and I walked and I rode my bike. I took in the good Willamette Valley air under cover of giant oaks, just like ours, but older and over miles and miles. Last night it was so clear; the stars were lovely and David and I kept the fire going until 10 or so. I slept well and ate well and it was easy to be good. I have some Easter surprises for both of you that I hope you will like.

Just before I leave I am thinking about how grateful I am for both of you, and how thankful I am that you both were willing to (maybe even happy to) have me out of the house, let me do my thing, allow me this space to travel both outward and inward. I love you both. I am enriched beyond words having the two of you in my life, challenging me and growing me toward this hidden wholeness.

Yours,

Michael

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Filed under Camping and Travel, Poetry

#120: The Resident Eight Year Old Speaks of Easter

easter_eggs_hd

Well, at first,
I thought it was
just about candy,
you know, just
as I thought
Christmas was
about presents.
And I thought
Easter was about
magical bunnies
just as Christmas
was about Santa.
But now I know.
Now I know that
Easter and the
Christmas holiday
are both about
Jesus. In December,
people celebrate
the birth of Jesus
and in April people
celebrate his death–
which is kind of
strange. But Dad
told me that
people believe
that Jesus
supposedly came
back to life and
that’s partly what’s so
special about Jesus.
I mean, not very
many dead people
can do that; it’s a
skill he had,
apparently. That’s
why, I guess, people
say Jesus is a god,
or that Jesus IS
god. I’m not so
sure. My parents
don’t take me to
church and they
don’t tell me to
believe one thing
or another thing
but I’m no dummy
and I can put
two and two
together and I
have come to the
conclusion that
Mom and Dad
are, all at once,
the tooth fairy,
the Easter bunny,
and Santa all
rolled into one,
or two, and because
they don’t go to church
I’m betting they have
their doubts about
the whole Jesus
coming back to life
thing. I had a lot
of fun this morning
looking for eggs
around the house
and finding the big
basket in the corner
behind the couch.
And I sacrificed a few
of my eggs so that
Dad could have a
hunt when he finally
got out of bed,
but I didn’t see
Jesus anywhere
and we didn’t say
any prayers or talk
about god. In
conclusion, my
Daddy wants me
to be older so that
I can make up my
own mind and
I think that’s fair.
Meanwhile,
Christmas and Easter
are just fun things
that we do and
I’m okay with that
for now.

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Filed under Parenting, Poetry, Religion