Back to work post-Resurrection…
all the shards of jaws dropped
and shattered already swept up
into jubilation mostly modest
as far as public displays of affection
go because persecution is still around
the corner waiting for a cab.

“Somethings different about you”,
your colleagues note
speaking through heavy coffee steam
transported from humid tropics.
“Did you go to Cuba for the weekend?”

Cuba, Schluba!
you smile a different radiance
not reliant on air-travel, in fact
quite content to stay at home
locked in some sort of upper room
for fear of wild fires and extreme weather,
but altogether permeable to the entrance
of a glorious friend gone cosmic
suddenly back to get the forgotten keys
to a new world order
modest, of course, because capitalism is still around
the corner selling bad-news papers.

You’re part of this, too, you know:
the work post-Resurrection.
Same old desk, same old cubicle,
but take a look at the light and tell me
if it doesn’t shine less artificial.

Cuba, Schluba!
Nice place, no doubt, but
the Kingdom of God has come nearer;
one giant leap for mankind
into a universe far and away
less sexist and anthropocentric.

You’ve been Son-tanned by three days
of brilliant Trinity.
So as soon as you boot up
your old ball and chain,
send yourself a gentle email reminder
that now you’re under new management
and all the best practices overnight
just got even better.
Follow your heart, that seaside shell
echoing at your ear the two simple words
as old as devotion and today
brand, spanking relevant:
“Follow me.”