Three on a road

Luke 24:13 That same day two of the disciples were walking to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem...

Turning our backs on Jerusalem

we should be trudging, downhearted,

but a nervous energy drives us on. 

Talk flashes to and fro;

hope seems dead

but won't lie down. 

The evening light plays tricks:

two of us walk towards sunset,

but glancing back, we see three shadows. 

Why do you argue? says the voice. 

Isn't it obvious? we reply, but

who is this third who walks beside us?

We tell all. A volcano of hurt erupts,

hopes raised and dashed, the journeys,

the tales, the hill, the tomb. He speaks –

repaints our angry canvasses

in fresh, unsettling colours:

evening becomes a strange, new dawn. 

Home, hungry for more than bread,

we lure the stranger in

with promise of supper, but

where have we seen those hands

that lift the bread and break our hearts

afresh as scales fall from our eyes

and knowledge comes and two of us

gaze

       dumbstruck
   
              at an empty space

    we breathe in the lingering scent 

              of hope