The Gardener Poem by Frank (Black) Blacharczyk

A choir of angels danced in the heavens
The sun was shining with breaking news
The Son was rising
Shaking heaven and earth a rock it did roll
The veil was lifted the curtain torn the barrier razed
Everything changed that morn for nothing remained the same
Fame was not his game the lame could walk
Tax collectors and prostitutes were his dinner guests
Like buried seeds awaiting winter's end
with a word the dead spring to life

But flowing robes with a dark heart and false lips
their refuge was a lie…deception their hiding place*
wanting their author nailed to a cross then out of sight
His grave was a tomb the door a boulder sealed tight
Guarded like a prisoner though he was chained to death
His escape was prophesied whispered through the streets

In the morning there came a deafening silence
The soldiers nowhere in sight ran with fright
the stone to guard the dead was rolled away
Some ran to see the empty tomb but left dismayed
Angels dressed in human attire arrive
to give the breaking news still Mary wept at the sight
She saw the gardener or so she thought
Fought back tears for the tomb was vacant
The gardener must know maybe he knew
She wiped away her tears with the hem of his cloak
to see more clearly He was not the gardener

Frank Black Blacharczyk from John 20: 1-18
(Isaiah 28: 15 NIV) *