Running, Looking, Standing.
Easter Day
Acts 10.34-43; John 20.1-18
This poem builds on the fact that John's account contains lots of references to ordinary bodily actions - standing, looking, running - as it recounts Mary's experience of meeting the bodily resurrected Jesus. Might these very bodily activities tell us something about how we meet Christ and how we are to live the resurrection life now?
The poem is meant to be read aloud. Hopefully necessary variations in pace and emphasis will be obvious. You are welcome to quote or amend as you see fit in your own circumstances.
Running, running,
always running.
Time is short,
waste it not.
Time is money,
spend it well.
Time is lost,
the gain all gone.
Time flies, it’s said,
human fear, human care.
Looking, looking,
always looking.
What fulfills?
Where is it found?
Answers faint, slim,
in questing’s search.
Love’s labour
lost in cruel lies.
Ambition strives
and dreads its loss.
Looking, looking,
always, looking.
Standing, standing,
always standing.
Lost in wonder?
Lost in gloom!
This queue closes,
this house full.
Only an onlooker
to another’s life.
On the byline,
longing to be seen.
Standing, standing
always standing.
Deathly, deathly
always deathly.
Power’s abuse,
hoping smashed.
Stone in place,
nothing shifts.
Blood is stilled
in clammy rigor.
It all ends
in death’s dark vale.
Deathly, deathly,
always deathly.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me
truths I wish for,
but cannot hear.
Meetings promised;
glanced unreal.
Voices heard
yet souls are deaf.
Understand? Perhaps,
or wholly miss the point.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me.
So stands Mary
at the cross’ foot
waiting. Waiting,
endlessly waiting
for her Lord’s
final scream.
Weeping witness
to the awful hour.
Mother Mary, Mary,
and Mary Magdalene,
three women stand
while others flee.
Deathly, deathly,
always deathly
Mary to the tomb
despairing comes.
What’s to do
but presence grieving?
Panic stricken
‘He’s not here.’
Running, running
always running,
Mary to the two,
breathless comes.
They go running, running,
Shoulder to shoulder
to the empty place.
Then outpaced
Standing, standing,
staring in,
where’s the thing
to change a mind,
change a heart?
Simon Peter gasping
goes on in.
Looking, looking,
always looking--
but not seeing.
Home they go.
Confused; bewildered.
So stands Mary
weeping, weeping,
but not seeing
angels there.
‘Where is my Lord?
I do not know,
I do not know.’
Standing, standing,
always standing,
onlooker no more.
Stand now,
stand up,
see him for who he is.
Hear a voice,
see a smile,
don’t hold on,
stand face to face.
Cling not forlorn,
no past re-worked,
no possession.
He is free,
—and so is she.
Running, running,
always running.
There is news.
There is wonder.
There is life anew
in you, in me.
Explain it not--
only witness
with conviction.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me,
Mary tell me
what you know.
Tell it straight,
and tell it slant,
'til my heart in
your words trusting,
knows for sure
the Living Lord.
Looking, looking,
always looking
for the hope that
springs ever new.
Standing, standing,
always standing
for the truth that
won’t be broken.
Running, running,
always running,
eagerly sharing
love’s burgeoning.
Tell me, tell me,
Mary tell me,
the one who spoke
to you that day,
lived in you,
and lives in me.
‘I have seen the Lord’
and life blossoms;
what is deathly
will not hold sway.
Looking, standing,
running
my life’s course,
glimpse eternity
in time spent.
always running.
Time is short,
waste it not.
Time is money,
spend it well.
Time is lost,
the gain all gone.
Time flies, it’s said,
human fear, human care.
Looking, looking,
always looking.
What fulfills?
Where is it found?
Answers faint, slim,
in questing’s search.
Love’s labour
lost in cruel lies.
Ambition strives
and dreads its loss.
Looking, looking,
always, looking.
Standing, standing,
always standing.
Lost in wonder?
Lost in gloom!
This queue closes,
this house full.
Only an onlooker
to another’s life.
On the byline,
longing to be seen.
Standing, standing
always standing.
Deathly, deathly
always deathly.
Power’s abuse,
hoping smashed.
Stone in place,
nothing shifts.
Blood is stilled
in clammy rigor.
It all ends
in death’s dark vale.
Deathly, deathly,
always deathly.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me
truths I wish for,
but cannot hear.
Meetings promised;
glanced unreal.
Voices heard
yet souls are deaf.
Understand? Perhaps,
or wholly miss the point.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me.
So stands Mary
at the cross’ foot
waiting. Waiting,
endlessly waiting
for her Lord’s
final scream.
Weeping witness
to the awful hour.
Mother Mary, Mary,
and Mary Magdalene,
three women stand
while others flee.
Deathly, deathly,
always deathly
Mary to the tomb
despairing comes.
What’s to do
but presence grieving?
Panic stricken
‘He’s not here.’
Running, running
always running,
Mary to the two,
breathless comes.
They go running, running,
Shoulder to shoulder
to the empty place.
Then outpaced
Standing, standing,
staring in,
where’s the thing
to change a mind,
change a heart?
Simon Peter gasping
goes on in.
Looking, looking,
always looking--
but not seeing.
Home they go.
Confused; bewildered.
So stands Mary
weeping, weeping,
but not seeing
angels there.
‘Where is my Lord?
I do not know,
I do not know.’
Standing, standing,
always standing,
onlooker no more.
Stand now,
stand up,
see him for who he is.
Hear a voice,
see a smile,
don’t hold on,
stand face to face.
Cling not forlorn,
no past re-worked,
no possession.
He is free,
—and so is she.
Running, running,
always running.
There is news.
There is wonder.
There is life anew
in you, in me.
Explain it not--
only witness
with conviction.
Tell me, tell me,
always tell me,
Mary tell me
what you know.
Tell it straight,
and tell it slant,
'til my heart in
your words trusting,
knows for sure
the Living Lord.
Looking, looking,
always looking
for the hope that
springs ever new.
Standing, standing,
always standing
for the truth that
won’t be broken.
Running, running,
always running,
eagerly sharing
love’s burgeoning.
Tell me, tell me,
Mary tell me,
the one who spoke
to you that day,
lived in you,
and lives in me.
‘I have seen the Lord’
and life blossoms;
what is deathly
will not hold sway.
Looking, standing,
running
my life’s course,
glimpse eternity
in time spent.
