Good Friday


Magdalen Lament

I am sick.

Not the sick of an excited, shrieking, palm filled road
Not the sick of what happens next?
Not the sick of too much food, too much wine.
Not the sick of too little sleep.

This is the sick I felt lost in the market-place
This is the sick I felt sold into slavery
This is the sick I felt at a child born dead
This is the sick I felt when the demons laughed and the men spat at me
This is the sick of fear drenched, screaming desolation.

He is gone.

The one who knew me,
The one who saved me,
The one who loved me.

Oily clouds draw a veil over the night sky
Moon and stars refuse to look upon those
That condemned the Brightest One.

His light no longer in this world.

Eclipsed by the blackness of men’s hearts,
The blindness of their eyes,
The shadows of their ambition.

He is gone.

But I have a star,
Fallen from his mouth.
A promise to return.
I fear I misheard,
A demon awakened at his going
Taunts me with my loss.
For where are the others?

I have a star,
And by its light I will wait.
The garden embraces me.
My watchfulness may feed the lilies
And sparrows find a home in my hair
Yet I will not leave the place
Of his descent.

For I have a star
And I have named it Hope.



Comments

Barbara In Caneyhead said…
Beautiful! Thank you for sharing. And a blessed and happy Easter to you.
3 April 2010 at 09:08
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