Noli Me Tangere Poem by Deborah DeNicola

There was a presence before the stone.
A pressure so much larger than human
wounds. My mind let go into the crags
of sorrow and I grew
this cavernous heart. It was a tomb
but also a garden.
One is the other
always. The spirit rises. The body stays
and blooms. I took him
for the gardener as the roses were wilted
on the lattice near where he stood.
He'd been broken and nailed
but nothing showed. Not one thorn,
not one bruise. The light stunned,
magnetized me reaching for his robe.
He threw out his arm, a bolt
of lit wires- shocked-I fell back.
I wanted the warmth of his skin,
to rest my head there,
but how removed he was, glowing
from his brow, both palms. No seams
for the ravaged flesh. The shade of white
on his garment, almost golden
like the air behind his head
when he taught us Truth.
No one dies. No one
ever dies. No one
is alone.

The painters only saw my body
as pulp, pigment and bone, the thick
color of my hair. But I was traveling
without movement, statue-still,
hardly there
while all my being
hummed. He said my name
and my head knocked
the sky. His gaze limbered my knees
and the suns in his eyes burned
through mine. I came to
myself alone, stupefied, not knowing when
he'd gone. And I ran to tell the brothers
we must choose belief, despite
the fears which fool our senses,
the fear which covered Eden up.