An Easter Closet

All you see is darkness.  Your eyes are open and ... now your eyes are closed. Can you tell a difference? No. Because there is no light in here. I mean, there is a little bit of light.. maybe it forms a circle? or a rectangle? You wonder if that must be a way out because you can see something blocking it.  You can sort of see ...something. But it's so far away, or is it so close?

You can taste nothing, none of the richness you have only ever dreamed about.  You yearn to use your tongue, your teeth. In here, there is nothing for you to taste, to eat, to gulp.  In this dark place, you dare not even shout out ...

...because there's nothing to hear either.  The silence is so thin, yet so weighty.  There is so much of it.  What would happen if you break it? What would happen if you said your name aloud? How about if you whispered instead of shouted. In here, is there a difference? Who can hear your soft whimpers and your anguished cries?

And if anyone can hear you, does hear you, how do you find them? It's so dark, there are walls all around you, keeping you in one place, stuck.  There is no clear way forward. You stumble all around,  unsure of what steady stronghold exists for your feet. I wonder if you feel any at all, or if you just trip over and over,

face on the ground. Inhaling dusty and musty kickings-up of whatever may happen to line this space.  The scent of old-ness, clogged-ness, stuck-ness filling your nostrils, seeping into your lungs trying to give you life.. but can they?

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And then God rolled away the stone in front of the tomb. Jesus came out. Jesus came out into new life, into resurrection, into his fullest self.

Or, did God open the closet door? Did you come out? Did you come out into new life, into resurrection, into your fullest self?