Go. Tell my friends. I am giving you the words.  Tell them.

It is finished, and the new story has begun.

The body that holds you now

Alive and warm, is as real

As the body you saw mutilated,

Mocked, betrayed, brutalized.

Even though jeers drowned out the message

Of justice for the poor,

Release for the oppressed,

Unimagined forbearance,

Even though

It seems as though the promise I brought

Was pounded down

With the nails

They drove into these hands

Go and tell them:

They cannot kill it.

Step back.  Take these wounded hands.

Clasp them in your own.

Gaze back at me, and see

The dancing in my eyes.

Now go.
Go and tell them

This life you are holding

Nothing can kill it.

Go. Go and tell them

You will see me

Again.

from Annunciations:  Poems out of Scripture