A Poem For Good Friday

sunset

Anxiety is a free fall from too-high-up.
Jetting toward the rock-hard.
Flailing in a grab-nothing way.
Screaming in a make-no-sound panic.
 
Anxiety is Good Friday.
 
Not in a Sunday’s-coming hope.
But
In a hidden-through-Jerusalem grief.
Good Friday is dark friday. 
Black Friday.
Nothing-good-about-this-day Friday.
 
Good Friday is mindful
Of bitter bile drowning love,
Of patience unpracticed 
And mercy ungiven.
Good Friday is dark hearts 
And dirty hands. 
It’s washing and washing
But still, the stain screams guilt.
 
Anxiety knows the wage of sin.
It’s walking to the gallows,
Though I walk through the shadow of death
I am still scared because it’s all my doing.
 
Good Friday is wilting hearts
And sunken souls.
 
But a hyacinth I believed long dead
Is growing purple among weeds, 
Pushing up through hard ground
With aroma sweet as hope.
 
hibiscus
 
 
 
 
About these ads

5 thoughts on “A Poem For Good Friday

So...What Do YOU Think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s