At The Early Service

this morning when the wall

of stars came down and

the sun came east, Christ

appeared in red glass blazing

the Resurrection Window

into a fiery, fresh return

from his harrowing of Hell.

All this took place before

any visitor cards or service

bulletins were distributed.

All this took place above

arched crossings and stone

corners that hold on to

Gospel secrets like burnt

fingerprints of candle-torches

accidentally lifted too high by

generations of young acolytes

who now rush their children

out front doors to church.

All this took place because

we're just guests here,

and we’ve known this 

most of our lives, or at least

the ghost of it, packing and 

repacking our bags in practice,

while time passes, while the

world quietly unfolds beneath 

moments of luminous witness,

while small marks of ordinary

devotion become the hardest

to unmake.