Good Friday
By Il Fratello
Today is good
Friday
And the hands of the church
Hold me
As I walk over these stones
We cannot do much
But make our way
Like the blind
Feeling texts written in raised letters
In fits and starts
I align myself with Christ
heroically
And tragically
Failing
To comprehend it all
I am most successful in slumber
Under the cloaks of the apostles
All of you in pain,
All of you suffering,
All of us,
Stop in our tracks
At the mystery
Of his willingness
The mystery of his blood rimmed eyes
That find me, you, each
Hidden in the crowd–
The only one who knows what I have done
And what of his inflicted pain was mine alone–
To say spirit to spirit
I forgive you
All.
Filed in:
Paraclete Press