Sleeping In

I know I would have slept in that dawn.

I have slept in over many dawns,
or at least laid still
with my eyes shut.

Even in the most uncomfortable of circumstances,
my body has been able
to stay up far too late,
and remain far too long past sunrise
in places and ways that would make
my mother cry.

I would have staggered from Golgotha,
heart rent in confusion and despair,
begging God for reasons and hope.

Blindly finding none,
I would have willed myself awake
well into the night, praying, muttering, fretting.

No breakfast the next day.

Another impossibly late night
away from all others; away from rumors and news.

I would plot a journey.
Some place far from the tomb.

I would have drifted off on the desert floor.
Slept in.
Missed all the excitement.
Staggered into town, slowly
gathering the gospel to me;
finding it
like the last, hidden present
on Christmas morning.