We are the men who meet in the upper room
toasting him over a pint: wishing, hoping, grieving,
What more could we have done?
Hate this waiting around.
What would he say now? Some mad advice, no doubt –
to fisherman Peter: go feed my lambs, my sheep
to theorising Andrew: put your hand out,
really feel the wounds, your pain
to taxman Matthew: do not count the cost…
This waiting’s for the women by the tomb: we’d best get on
get back to work: to fishing
to the living
as if we could change things
as if he was here…
Telling stories for our children
someday, maybe, our grandsons will write them down:
We knew him, he said this, he changed our lives.
We were the men of the upper room.
Now we mend our nets and ask,
Do you remember?
–waiting for resurrection.
Meanwhile, love and duty get us through
and we’ll be on the lake
See also, “We are the women in the graveyard“