Shocked.

Shamed.

Shattered.

Friday.

Mourning.

Sunday.

Morning.

And the moment.

A chest and a futile faith suddenly inhale.

History pivots.

And seeing nothing becomes the point.

Death’s in the past tense.

He’s alive.

Happy Easter.

“And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb… And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back.”