A Poem For Good Friday



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
In a hidden-through-Jerusalem grief.
Good Friday is dark Friday,
Black Friday,
Nothing-good-about-this-day Friday.

Good Friday is rough wood,
Rusted nails,
Sharp thorns.

But a hyacinth I believed long dead
Is growing purple among weeds,
Pushing up through hard ground
With aroma sweet as hope.


6 Comments on “A Poem For Good Friday

  1. Pingback: Dorothy’s Cross | Susie Finkbeiner

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 )

Connecting to %s

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

%d bloggers like this: