The Tomb
By Noelle Canty
The cathedral steps shone white.
The afternoon sun seared them, and the city sidewalk,
till they smelled—dry and dense,
a distillation of dusty concrete.
Among the other First Communicants,
I tried to look away.
My veil scratched my head and slid to the side;
my tights itched.
Light warmed my arms and face,
but the May air was only cool.
Inside, in the air-conditioned chill,
I was too focused on the procession to freeze.
I saw my mom aiming a camera—
Dad’s eyebrows crinkled in tearful love,
like how he’d cried when he first held me.
Did I know what to do? Did I stop to think?
Only for a second.
The ceremony ended, I rushed to the Easter decor:
a life-sized, white tomb, next to the marble altar.
I was so relieved to have found Jesus in the host—
to untomb him.
Noelle Canty has published and been involved in several projects, ranging in topic from philosophy and literature to religion and psychology. Broadly interested in intellectual history, she continues to search for and accept writing, co-authoring, and editing opportunities for monographs, chapters, articles, fiction, and other writings. As you read this, she probably is thinking about classical music while enjoying the Midwestern landscape.
