Holding our Breath

Christmas and Easter can be subjects for poetry, but Good Friday, like Auschwitz, cannot. The reality is so horrible it is not surprising that people should have found it a stumbling block to faith."
— W.H. Auden

Silence fills the void

as we wait

holding our breath

on the cusp

of 

the evening dusk.

Meal shared with friends

betrayal

rejection

pain

suffering

and

then

finally reaching the 

bottomless pit of despair as we hear those words from a distant past

"it is finished"

the sound of silence

supports us

through the night.

and we wait on the edge of hope 

praying 

for

Resurrection Sunday

to come again.

may it be so...

for all of us...

The radical rambler