Easter 2020

And where is Jesus, this strange Easter day? 
Not lost in our locked churches, anymore 
Than he was sealed in that dark sepulchre. 
The locks are loosed; the stone is rolled away, 
And he is up and risen, long before, 
Alive, at large, and making his strong way 
Into the world he gave his life to save, 
No need to seek him in his empty grave. 

He might have been a wafer in the hands 
Of priests this day, or music from the lips 
Of red-robed choristers, instead he slips 
Away from church, shakes off our linen bands 
To don his apron with a nurse: he grips 
And lifts a stretcher, soothes with gentle hands 
The frail flesh of the dying, gives them hope, 
Breathes with the breathless, lends them strength to cope.

On Thursday we applauded, for he came 
And served us in a thousand names and faces 
Mopping our sickroom floors and catching traces 
Of that virus which was death to him: 
Good Friday happened in a thousand places 
Where Jesus held the helpless, died with them 
That they might share his Easter in their need, 
Now they are risen with him, risen indeed.

--Malcolm Guite (1957- ), Anglican priest, poet, and musician, from his blog.