christ is the morning star
who when the night of this world is past
brings to his saints
the promise of the light of life
and opens everlasting day
Easter Day. I celebrated with the crowds at the Catholic Basilica on Plaza Flores. Squeezing past the latecomers group at the door, I moved up the side of the church until I was lost in the body(s) of Christ. I rested against a marble pillar singing alleluias. Next to me, the last confessional post received a steady stream of penitents. The priest robed in white and purple, lent to listen as the crowds stood and kneeled, praised and prayed. We kissed peace, strangers all: an woman with bleached-yellow hair, an old man with a firm grip, two flower girls smiling with delight.
This is my body.