A Bit of Writing

Jesus Punched Lazarus.
You see,
Jesus was burying toys and sticks in a little mud mound.
It was a nice mound.
Its treasures concealed inside.
The mud was smooth and glossy.
"That's how people should be buried," Jesus thought.
How nice to be buried with things that were important.
Some toys, food, clothing, tools maybe.
Then the earth would be pregnant with your soul, your spirit, your livelihood, your life.
We could be born again.
And again. And again. And again.
We would always have life.
We would fall in love again. Take our first steps again. Enjoy everything again.
And all the while we'd store our histories in the earth, and over time know each other.
We'd understand each other, be more compassionate...
-STOMP!-
Lazarus purposely squashed the perfect mound.
The mud spotted Jesus' face.
It stung his eyes.
It dripped into his mouth.
Jesus stood and looked Lazarus in the eye.
Lazarus stopped laughing.
Time held its breath.
Lazarus was new, as was Jesus.
Neither of them had been buried in a mound.
The earth had not been pregnant with them. Nothing was stored. Histories not yet collected.
So,
Jesus punched Lazarus.

-Linda