the physicality of it - walking and stopping - the wind and the slight chill to the air bring a different, literal feel to the familiar story.
the mockery of a trial concludes and He's sentenced, events in motion an eternity in the making.
here He falls. There, rises again.
and the etching of His mother knocks me back like never before.
Did she scream? Did she have to be held back? Was she silent? Surely there were tears. I would have screamed until I collapsed.
And still he walked on, his footsteps echoing through time to the conclusion in the center.
I round the corner and feel as though all the air has escaped.
Death.
Even though I half-catch the looming figure in the center, grace just one turn out of range, all I can see is Dies and the horrible picture of His body cradled by his friends.
How his mother must have cried.
The last corner is rounded and the central figure is finally in full sight.
A marble slab, cracked. And graveclothes lying in a disheveled heap, rock solid in their uselessness.
Death is conquered.
The grave is empty, cracked and abandoned.
He is not here.
All that remains is the useless stone that once spelled destruction.
amen.
Amen!
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