ghost
i, too, would have thought
you were a ghost --
would have trembled,
would have wrapped myself
in disbelieving dread
thinking you still
dead and buried,
hidden behind the stone,
heavy-hearted.
i, too, would have wanted
proof that you had indeed
risen,
would have placed my hands
in your hands, my hand
in your side, pressed myself
against you to test your
presence.
i carry that proof
like a stone
in the palm of my hand,
polished smooth
by my remembering,
made beautiful
by my longing,
laden
with hope.
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