Holy Saturday

Great Lord of Life-

Yet, on this day

There is no stirring in your grave.

No sound to break

The silent stone

That holds your body, cold, alone.

No ray of sun

Can enter here

To pierce the age-old dark of fear.

No breath of air

To halt the rush

Of your decaying flesh to dust.

Great Lord of Life

You come no more

To knock upon my hearts’ closed door…

Yet bitter irony indeed

My heart lies bare, your Cross the key

Dead Lord of Life to thee!

Leave a Reply

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.