Tombs

Absences eat words.
We can write and talk
about what's been removed,
measure the cavity--
an inch for every
thing we miss--
but the nothing
left behind
still dries our tongues.

Merciful Savior,
what must Your followers,
Your loved ones, have felt
when all that they had left
was the terrible yawn
of Your body
emptied of You.

You, Who felt what it is
to be forsaken, fill
these, our absences, with
Your most tender light.
Through emptiness spill
astonishing resurrections.