Sunday morning. Children laughing and playing and running about…it’s Easter!
Old men and women in their Sunday best, Father Parish Priest is watching from his terrace, coffee in one hand, waving the other…it’s Easter!
Even the resident dog is extra friendly this time around, total strangers smile at one another like they are the best of friends…it’s Easter!
No trace of last Friday’s gore can be found on anyone, no dint of wailing and the requisite lamentations, there’s only joy and warmth and ice-cold lemonade for everyone…it’s Easter!
It seems for a while that the world has always been like this. It feels so new, so fresh, so pure and pristine…perhaps it really was…perhaps it really is meant to be this way…it’s Easter!
From this Sunday on, I shall not anymore look at every empty plot, pot, nook, box…even niche and cave the same way again. Something’s been there. Somebody’s been there…only they cannot contain it for long, only they could not detain him for long…it’s Easter!
An upturned rock would from now on be for me a symbol of tyranny disarmed, of false delights gone stale, of darkness washed with the bright rays of a new dawn, of stains made clean, of sins forgiven, of death itself consigned to its pitiful demise…it’s Easter!
aprub na aprub 'to fr. pong!
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