It’s kind of an unofficial tradition that every Easter, I find myself captured by some new element of the story, some character’s perspective, and take some time to render my reflections in the form of poetry.
This year’s poem is from the perspective of the man whose ear Peter cut off, whom Luke’s Gospel tells us was healed by Jesus right before his arrest.
Malchus
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I never saw the blade— commotion covered its hasty swipe. I never saw, but I heard it too close, heard it rend the air beside my head and I heard the alien sound of blood filling space I saw the world in angry flashes before me, a world tilted on its axis and it spun as I fell to the ground hands wet with blood drawing unknown symbols in the dirt, searching But then, someone else’s hands reached for mine, startling in their sudden gentleness. The man we’d come for was there kneeling before me, in the dirt mixed with my blood, my blood, staining his knees. His eyes met mine and in them I saw worlds of love reflected in torchlight. He raised his hands to touch my wound. Pain turned to rightness, restoration, life pounding through my ears musical in its chaos and a beautiful terror filled me spilling out like an offering, though my mouth could form no words. They seized him, and I followed, drawn by his mystery, having witnessed the impossible— What man is this, who would see me, turn and heal me even on his way to damnation? Happy Easter. I pray you encounter the risen Christ today.
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