Resurrection moves slowly after a war.
No angel in robes of splendor stands at the empty tomb
and no one is struck blind on the road to Chalate.
No, the body rises slowly,
It is pounded out one pupusa at a time,
as orphans are raised by their aunts and uncles,
as wounded bodies learn to walk again,
as broken voices learn new songs,
and the damaged spirits learn to make peace with their tortured souls.
And what of the dead?
They are with us still.
They live on in our stories,
in our songs,
in our dreams.
Having fallen in war they teach us the ways of peace.
Yes, resurrection moves slowly.
But, here is the good news.
Our messiah is alive.
I have seen him walking in the streets,
teaching in the schools,
healing in the clinic,
and living with his people in the mountains of Chalatenango.