In Memoriam: As Easter Comes

This poem actually began to take shape quite accidentally in prayer. It does assume a Thursday crucifixion, but I hope that will not detract from the spirit of it for anyone who disagrees with that view. The meter is chiasmic (3.4.6.8.10.8.6.4.3).

FOUR DAYS

 THURSDAY

Lord, today,
this darkest day,
both man and devil, they
stretch out your form; your flesh they flay,
then on a tree your bleeding body lay.
While hell will relish this display,
this God-forsaken day,
the Son will stay
as sin’s prey.

FRIDAY

Lord, today
your body lay
on cold hard stone, your clay
reclined in darkness. Meanwhile, they
who loved You, in despair, all numbly pray
they know not what. What can they say
to God who took away
their hope, and may
them betray?

SABBATH

Lord, today
yet still you lay
in earth’s chill heart, while they
who loved you brood in black dismay
and see no cause, no point, no sense, no way
forward or back. Oh for one ray
of faith to cheer, to stay
doubt one more day!
Just one day!

SUNDAY

Lord, today
you could not stay
entombed in stone; away
death fled when you rose up to lay
your graveclothes down, and in dawn’s cool grey
walked forth in triumph! That delay
was proof that all you say
you do—always,
Lord. Always.