“Revisiting” by Sharon Rauenzahn
It was a good feeling,
After 32-odd years of walking everywhere,
Opening doors, pushing curtains aside,
Only doing the impossible on occasion,
To simply appear again:
In a room, on a hillside, along the road,
Surprising old friends into unrecognition.
Intellectually, they know it’s you
But their human eyes can’t take in
All those extra dimensions.
Hearts vibrating like strings,
Their face-recognizer stretches,
Snaps back, labeling you a stranger.
Even walking on the shore, calling out,
Where you always walked, always called out,
They only half hear, only half see
Until you break something
And the light spills out.
The stone was rolled away for them, not for you.
Feet that can walk on water
Don’t need a clear path through a crowd,
Or behind a curtain,
Or out of a tomb.
Mary thought you the gardener that morning,
Until you spoke her name
Back into existence, back into recognition.
Even now, ascended,
Your friends look past you,
Don’t see you hovering over the waters,
Making the fish jump.
Or filling a room,
Inhabiting the bread broken in their fingers,
Living, alive, always alive
In the bread,
In the wine,
In the breath.
April 19, 2016 (rev. 10/3/2016)