ARISE
Arise
He relishes the cool dark.
No more rushing desert wind, no shimmer of heat.
He’d lived beyond the stone wall, outside this oasis of peace, dreamed of a future: alone in a gently rocking boat, nets flap-full of fish.
The past week has been febrile with activity.
He’s been adrift in the darkness, muscles relaxed.
Four days.
A disturbance at the door shatters the calm.
Burning light stabs his dry eyes.
He clings to the sheet, pulls it tighter, a death grip.
‘Arise,’ commands his old friend.
‘No. Don’t make me,’ Lazarus’s tears are bitter.
A resurrection refused?
Jesus wept.