Easter Tradition

I wrote this after seeing a Facebook post where someone had entered a contest where they were asked to write about their Easter tradition.

Every year I gather with the dead inside a building shaped like a tomb.  Our eyes are wet with grief for our beloved is dead. Our grief has languished for days.   Then suddenly, abruptly, the cold mist of agony is pierced through with a sword strangely glistening.  Our noses are enticed by the scent of spring.  Engraved into the side of the sword are three words.  These words cut into our souls and release a response of five words. The three words: “He is Risen.”  The five:  “He is risen indeed Alleluia.”  Our vocal chords vibrate with songs. One says, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  And then he comes.  Our beloved invites us to a feast.  He feeds us with himself.  And in this eating, the gathered dead are filled with his life.  Our grief is vanquished.  The tomb shaped building now acts a womb, giving birth to all the raised.  Death enters, life leaves.  This is my Easter Tradition.