Runners

My Easter poem for 2025

Here’s my Easter poem for 2025. I hope you enjoy it. Shared with love.

~ AK

Runners

When my father died
in the worst way at the 
worst time, when the world shut down
got so scared and
angry, they snuck me into the hospital so
I could see him: the miracle 
I got not the miracle 
we needed

I think of that now
as we prepare to bury the Lord
this Easter
to relive all grief

How, from the moment the branch is 
placed in my hand on Palm Sunday 
waving it from the pews where
we imagine the triumphal entry and its 
unfamiliar joys, the sleepy 
prayers in the garden 
sham trial and flogging 
the nail-pierced body and the blood
I little know what to do

We know how to 
crucify but I don't know how to 
worship

If Jesus stepped into the room right now
would we lay down our coats, wave a
leafy frond
raise our hands and hopes 
with welcome? 

Feeble in both 
grief and praise
the stone still rolls away
sets us free from mortal
conundrum

I buried dad with his running shoes

there was still 
snow on the ground and
I didn't want his feet to get 
cold in all the excitement
of a resurrection

This hesitance 
as we walk toward Easter
is not a lack of reverence
or love, but trepidation

hope
at what might take place
as we step toward the
tomb

© 2025 Andrew Kooman

Other poems by Andrew

Gratitude and grief; would you pass the pumpkin pie?

Behind the stone