Wednesday, April 23, 2014


In this one-eyed, starless night,
     the moon glows lonely,
casting shadow
on the skeleton trees,
their limbs outstretched.
The night birds
and with crooning
song, profess
that this dark is new.
soft, white light
of orb exists
an eerie mood.
He cannot sleep. 
The gloating crow replays
inside his
mind to remind
of his betrayal
and too, his
own words-
the declaration,
“I will not
deny you.” 
He weeps. 
He cannot sleep-
the night before
he could not
stay awake.
He replays words: 
the blessing over
broken bread,
the wine they drank,
and the blood
Then the scenes
replay: the soldiers
coming, the kiss,
the scandal,
the swords raised,
Jesus seized.

Will the sun rise at all tomorrow?  She cannot tell.  She has not slept. 
        The light of her entire world is gone. Stolen. 
        Her strength is gone.
Her tears dried. 
Her body numb. 
Ringing in her ears, the mocking. The cries of the vicious crowd – “King of Jews.” 
His cries.  She shudders,
tries to block the sight
of his flesh, lashed, the nails in
his hands and feet,
the spear that pierced his side. 
Her head
where they placed the crown of thorns upon her son.
These visions, etched like every word he spoke, these visions.
She recalls his birth, the indignant voices of those who cursed
her choice but rocks now the memory of her infant son,
hope mirrored in innocence’s eyes.

It is Friday. 
We are millennia
The sun knows not to shine,
though any other day,
 I’d think it just forgot.
This Friday, the sun remembers,
hides and her concealment
hurts our eyes. 
The clouds
keep her secret, patch the sky. 
I read the words of Matthew
to the children, the story of the lamb,
slain; I tell them that this day
is christened good.  I begin
with The Last Supper
and begin to weep when
the crowd chooses Jesus. 
I hear the scoffing jeers. 
I see him carrying the cross
and I cry because I know him
as a friend and because he is a friend
I’ve never known.   Because as a child
I dreamed of him and so they crucify a man
I’ve seen- a man I love.

My body tingles and I’m reminded of my betrayal. 
I know the son will rise- that Sunday’s coming but today I cry.

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