I’m keeping a list of Easter Mischief.
It’s growing every day.

I’m to start in the cemetery in the dead of night,
Swapping stories with a crowd of caskets
Before hugging the dirt above Grandma’s grave.

Then, Mischief has told me to loose my grudges
Like a herd of cows skipping out to pasture,
To lay down my cares like a purring kitten.

Before long, I’m to meet the little ones and the weak.
We’re making paper chains to replace the prison bars
And macaroni art for every permanent record.

We’re to sign off every bill of debt in crayon
Under the name of Jubilee.
We’re to treat every declaration of war as scratch paper
And army tanks as jungle gyms.

I’m to find the loneliest child,
The loneliest alcoholic,
And the loneliest part of my self.
We’re to keep going until the rest are found.

Each one of us will grab the world by a corner
To shake it out like a rug.
Then, we’re to turn it upside-down like a snow globe
To watch the money flakes float south.

Next, we’re digging to the bottom of the landfill
To let the soil see the stars.
We’re to vibrate every molecule of atmosphere
With songs of thanks and praise.

God told me to change the locks on every church building
And to give away the keys.
I’m to unpot and plant the Easter lilies
In every spot of barren ground.

And after all this, I’m to try to sleep
Even with Mary’s song in the streets
And the quiet commotion of tomorrow’s feast.

I cannot wait to wake up.
I cannot wait to hear us
Laugh and laugh.