PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The rabbi was most certainly polite.

He deigned to suffer torture to the death,

qnd even prayed to God with His last breath,

not wasting it in curses shrieked in spite.

They buried him with spices in a tomb

unused before.  Who would have dared presume

to offer it?  Then, first day of the week,

He rose up from it.  Of that, many speak.

I, too, looked into that small, hewn-out room.

The emptied rock slab nearly stopped my heart;

the grave cloth cast aside, but not a trace

of Him,  The napkin that once hid his face

was folded, perfectly, and set apart.

I saw it for myself (not faith, but sight).

He lives again, and, still, is that polite.