‘Strange Blindness: A Play in Two Acts’ by Cynthia Erlandson

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Strange Blindness: A Play in Two Acts

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Prologue

Joseph and Jesus knew that perfect timing—
and not plain, unforeshadowed proclamation—
would show the deepest truth about life’s drama.
Its plot twists often need a drawn-out comma
for characters who need some preparation
before they can perceive the play’s full meaning.

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Act I

“So Joseph recognized his brothers, but they did not
recognize him.” —Genesis 42: 8

As one long-dead to these eleven others,
omniscient Joseph leaves them blind. He sees
the past and future starting to converge,
as in his childhood dreams. Emotions surge.
His flair for improvising emerges, and frees
his mind to write new roles for these wretched brothers.
Having their sight restored would overwhelm
them at this point, and cut the drama short
of its potential power—would avert
its climax. So, with no apparent qualm,
he keeps contriving more suspenseful scenes
for them to act without knowing what the play means,
to show them a haunting, shadowed silhouette
of the truth they were determined to forget.

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Act II

“. . . Jesus himself drew near and went with them. But
their eyes were restrained, so that they did not know
him.”  —Luke 24: 15-16

Supporting characters don’t recognize
the lead, who makes his re-entrance quietly
from somewhere far beyond the footlights’ blaze.
During an intermission of three days,
the disillusioned audience has withdrawn,
assuming that the play had ended when
the lead had died. Not knowing night from dawn,
forgetting that the curtain’s not been drawn,
eleven friends who should have known the script
are waiting in the wings, bewildered, dazed.
Too paralyzed by grief to see the signs
of rising day, they’re fearful, unequipped
to play their parts, not knowing they have lines.
Two minor characters, in cameo,
oblivious that they are on a stage,
are joined by One whose speech comes from a page
they’ve read before; yet still they do not know
this one who’d left his friends three days ago.
He won’t unblind them at this moment, though,
because to fearful eyes he needs to show,
not tell. They walk and talk until a change
of scenery: a table; breaking bread
with perfect timing, he unveils a strange
new vision of the Word who once had said
that they would see him risen from the dead.

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from Foundations of the Cross and Other Bible Stories

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Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan.  Her third collection of poems, Foundations of the Cross and Other Bible Stories, was released in July, 2024 by Wipf and Stock Publishers.  Her other collections are These Holy Mysteries and Notes on Time.  Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, The Catholic Poetry Room, and elsewhere.