His disciples came and took away
the body and buried it; and they
went and reported to Jesus.
Matthew 14:12

Every time I read it I picture how it must have been . . .
It was on a cold and windy day
when they told Him.
Cloaks were wrapped tightly,
their wet hoods feeble protection
against the cutting rain.
They walked slowly, wordlessly
along the road . . . the rain nourishing
the freshly planted seeds of confusion.
Some wept, I’m sure. Others
retreated–broken–into the tired
and lonely corners of their minds.
They found Him in the Garden.
He wasn’t praying–just standing,
as a father might stand just before
receiving news of a son lost in battle.
All of eternity stood between the silent stares
that lurked in the hooded caves.
A large man with a hoarse voice
interrupted the rain’s one-way conversation
with the earth:
“Master . . . they have beheaded John.”

W.M.G

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