The stone they rolled away
the same that the builders rejected
served, as a foundation
built upon this rock.
Carried here
buried here
interred, with naught a word.
And the boy did not talk
for some time.
The shoot, gave root
and stood as it should–
the willow wept, for those
left behind.
He went to them at night
never in the flesh, but
in speaking, seeing dreams
laughing amid their branches
arms drooping, scooping him up
cradling him into the dawn.