Easter

we would have
no trouble
believing
if
your teachings had
been passed down,
each new generation
copying them down
from the blackboard
into their blue books;
your thoughts had
spawned a philosophy
which took up a
whole department
in the university;
your followers had
organized a political power
which threw the rascals
out of power;
 
but you . . .?
 
you turn to face
us,
a dead ringer
for our friend
laid in the grave,
 
scaring us
half
to life.
 
© Thom M. Shuman