Easter 2020
by Mike Croghan
when the rabbi showed up
in the garden and the upper room
on the road and on the beach
several days after
they’d nailed him to the tree
he wasn’t the same
his dearest friends
no longer recognized him
taking him instead for a gardener
or a stranger on the path
he was different now
his death
and the wounds that he bore
were real
you can’t go back
you can’t go back
you can’t uncrack an egg
or uncrash your car
you can’t unkiss that girl
or unspeak those words
you can’t unspread a virus
or undo what it’s done to us all
the buddha’s law of impermanence
and the physicist's law of entropy
both laugh in the face
of our desperate nostalgia
for a time before change
you can’t go back
when the rabbi showed up
after they’d nailed him to the tree
he wasn’t the same
but he spoke words of hope
unlike any he’d spoken before
you can’t go back
but we, together, can go forward
