This one is self-evident; months ago a thought surfaced: what happened when He awoke in that tomb? Hence:
Heart pulsing, he felt hands pulling him upright,
then peeling his head wrap and linen strips.
He blinked and focused as his two shimmering friends
luminated course crystalline walls—dried blood
on the ledge—the stone wheel in its chiseled groove—
his naked body. He flicked off dark flakes.
Smiling, they lowered a tunic on him
white as a Gardenia, bound a loincloth,
fastened sandals. Chill lifted.
Each, with feathery touch,
soothed punctures and gashes on his brow.
He raised hands and head, breathing deeply.
They rolled away the ton stone wheel
like a denarius on a table
as the ground seized and tremored,
then floated out and flashed like lightning in the dawn.
As he stepped forth guards fainted as dead men.
He feasted on the pink sky, silver-crested clouds,
unfurling purple rock roses and yellow crown daisies.
A wren warbled and a preened suitor landed on her branch.
Among olive trees a woman approached.
He smiled and stepped forward.